Down A Dark Road
by SVRaven
Summary: 'Wherever it leads. Whatever the cost.'
1. As A Sign Of Things To Come

_As a sign of things to come: _

_She is dying like the setting sun,  
And he is dying of guilt and grief.  
Blood and shadows in rivers run,  
And all their joys shall be too brief._

_It is the dark road that they tread,  
But neither walks the road alone.  
Even filled with tears and dread,  
They'll walk it still, though hope has flown._

_She will lead them through the night,  
He will shepherd those who stray.  
Stars and faith the only light,  
But they will not lose the way._

_It is the narrow road they travel,  
Hand in hand with measured strides.  
Even when the threads unravel,  
They'll walk it still, the only guides. _

_-_

Prepare to journey down the dark road. If you have the courage.

* * *

Author's Note- Next part to come soon. From this point on all I can say is: Have patience & faith. 


	2. Present Day

_Present Day  
William Adama age 67 – Laura Roslin age 55  
Location: Galactica – Coordinates unknown_

"It's over," Laura said with a defeated sigh.

"No." Bill felt a surge of emotion constrict his chest. "Laura—_No._"

Despite his protests, there was nothing he could do.

It was over.


	3. The First Step Down the Dark Road

_23 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 42  
Location: Picon – Fleet Headquarters_

"Welcome back to the Colonial Fleet Captain Adama." Commander Corman stood up from behind his sleek artificial mahogany desk to shake William's hand. Corman gestured for Adama to have a seat and returned to his own. William settled into the blue cushioned chair and took a quick appraisal of the commander's office.

It was rather spare as far as offices went. There were no windows or shelves and not much clutter other than a small stack of navy folders on the corner of his desk. The only thing on the wall behind him was the seal of the battlestar _Olympia_ and a plaque for a medal of distinction,_ for service above and beyond the call of duty. Brenik._ Corman himself was only a few years older than Adama with a few streaks of grey beginning to show and watery blue eyes that betrayed nothing.

"It's good to be back," replied William. It was good. It was good to be back to the snug comfort of a Colonial uniform. It was good to feel sunlight and planetary gravity, breathe fresh air, see trees… It was good to have hope for a future again. But William knew that his recommissioning had come at a price. This meeting with Corman was likely just the beginning.

"How is the new addition to the family doing?"

An involuntary grin of pride spread across William's face.

"Zak's doing fine. Lee isn't too thrilled, but I'm sure he'll warm up to his little brother in no time." Zak had been born just two months ago, healthy and strong, but now Adama's paternity leave had expired and it was time to report for duty.

"That's good to hear," Corman replied offhandedly while he reviewed the open file in front of him. "Impressive service record you've got here. Commander Edington was right; we could use a man like you. Specifically we're looking for someone experienced, reliable."_What you really mean, _thought William, _is you want someone who doesn't question orders._ "And who isn't afraid of risks." _Preferably a few steps away from suicidal I'd bet._ "So if you want an assignment in the Special Operations Division you have one. But we realize that your family obligations may require something more, stable." _Your family status is a liability._

William knew that the Colonial Fleet did not give mere captains a choice in assignments. Normally, they assigned you to a post, you received your orders and you reported for duty. "Special Operations" was a nice way of saying black ops. They probably wanted him because the most common adjective in his performance reviews was loyal and his stack of disciplinary reports from the Cylon War had in common one thing; personal risk—to a degree his COs had found objectionable, but, he had always managed to accomplish the mission.

"Sir, if I may," began William. "I joined the Fleet to defend the Colonies."_Because my father wanted me to be a lawyer and I would have rather eaten a Raptor piece by piece. _"I am under no illusions about what it means to be in the Fleet. My duties will come first." _I'm a good soldier who does as he's told. For the most part. _"If Spec Ops gets me back in a Viper, I'll do it." He knew that a "stable" assignment meant a desk job and he wasn't ready for that yet. _I only have maybe ten good flying years left—I need this. _

William Adama loved his wife and he adored his sons, but after fourteen years of being bounced from port to port on a beaten up tramp freighter, spending his leave drinking with Saul and then later in romancing Carolanne and dealing with his growing family, he needed to be back in a Viper. He needed to see the stars streak past and feel the wrenching tug of a seven G turn with a bandit hot on his six. He wanted to experience the rush of adrenaline that came from executing his signature one point three second end over end flip that pushed both pilot and Viper to the brink. He wanted to be the same cocky top gun that his squadron mates looked up to that he had been during the war.

"All right then," replied Corman. He closed the file in front of him and pulled out another. "You will have to be assessed for flight status and receive additional training before reassignment. Until that time you will be allowed to return to Caprica to get your affairs in order. After you've been assigned to your post, you and your family will be transferred for safety reasons. When the time comes your sons will be provided with the finest education possible. While you are deployed they will be taken care of and want for nothing. The only thing that you will have to think about from this point on is the mission at hand. We're glad to have you aboard. You're dismissed Captain."

William stood up, offered a crisp salute and left the commander's office with a sure step. He knew that he had made the right choice, even if he felt a little selfish for it. He was back in the Colonial Fleet and soon enough he would be back in a Viper. He would make sure of it. No matter what it took.


	4. The New Family

_22 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 42  
Location: Picon – Special Operations Division Academy_

"All right ladies and gentlemen," began Major Farro in a business-like tone from his podium. The aging officer seemed to blend in with the walls of the diminutive ready room and he kept his eyes on the papers in front of him. "Congratulations on graduating solo ops and welcome to the start of your unit training. Today you will be assigned to either Red or Blue Flight and given time to become acquainted with your cohorts."

Twelve newly official Special Operatives of Colonial Fleet sat in the first two rows of the ready room in varying degrees of restlessness. After six months of nearly complete isolation in order to preserve secrecy and harsh endurance trials that lead to daily risks, the operatives were all visibly irritated at the sheer tediousness of the graduation ceremony and the speeches. Most of them slouched and from William's position in the rear of the group he could tell by the angle of a few heads that there were some on the verge of falling asleep.

To be honest he was glad for tedious and ceremony. It was a welcome break from the mind numbing routine of flight drills, G tests and physical conditioning. He had passed everything with high marks, perhaps not as easily as the younger pilots that sat in front of him, but he had passed. While Farro talked, William studied the unfamiliar squadron numbers and insignia that lined the walls.

"These people will be your guardian angels for the duration of what is likely to be the rest of your very, short, lives," continued Farro in a manner that suggested he had made this speech many times. "If you remain in the S.O. Division half of you will likely be dead inside of five years. The remainder will be damn lucky if they make ten. So in order to help keep you all alive as long as possible I suggest you become good friends with the people in this room. After you have been assigned to a flight, assemble on one side of the room. Red Flight will have the right side and Blue Flight will have the left."

Farro paused in his litany to shuffle the papers in front of him and then he began to read off the assignment sheet.

"Blue Flight will be: Lieutenant junior grade Rajin 'Drone' Xun. Lieutenant junior grade Lani 'Ceres' Waters. Lieutenant junior grade Nathan 'Gonzo' Grant. Lieutenant junior grade Jakko 'Beamer' Durante. Lieutenant senior grade Zephyr 'Cutter' Quolan. Flight leader will be, Captain Marcus 'Maximus' Adar."

William watched as six pilots stood up and made their way over to one corner of the room. Half of them appeared to be little more than twenty years old and the oldest, Marcus, wasn't likely past his mid-thirties, but the senior pilot wings pinned to all of their uniforms attested to their flight experience.

Farro pulled out another sheet.

"Red Flight is: Lieutenant junior grade Nia 'Torrent' Tikaru. Lieutenant junior grade Xander 'Valor' Simms. Lieutenant junior grade Daniel 'Hammer' Novacek. Lieutenant junior grade, Alexa 'Kamikaze' Ciazo. Lieutenant senior grade Tobias 'Achilles' Cain. And your flight leader is Captain William 'Husker' Adama. Now that you're all set, I have another squadron to attend to. One of the Marines outside can direct you all to the mess and your barracks. Lights out is at twenty-two hundred."

Red Flight all stood up and gathered in the opposite corner while Farro departed. William was easily the oldest one in his flight, not to mention the entire squadron. It meant that he was also one of the few to have experienced combat against the Cylons and thus, compared to the rest, he was an expert in a Viper in ways that they could only dream.

None of his new charges appeared to be over thirty and the first one in his flight to stand in front of him and salute was a sandy haired, mid twenty-something in undecorated dress grays. The senior lieutenant had all the look of a perfect officer. A stifled, impish grin completely shattered the impression garnered by his stiff exterior and reminded William of himself when he was that age.

"Tobias 'Achilles' Cain at your service, sir," he said. Adama returned the snap salute.

"At ease." Cain relaxed his stance, but his expression was still carefully controlled.

"Sir, I just wanted to say I've heard of 'Moron' Marcus' people skills from my time in the Academy and I'll take you over him any day. I'm honored to have such an, experienced, pilot to learn from." Tobias offered his hand and William shook it.

"You can call me Bill," William replied with a nod and released Cain's hand. "As long as you do as I say and not as I do, you should be able to keep yourself in one piece until we get to the real work." Tobias' attempt at seriousness finally cracked and he let out a chuckle.

"Wilco, sir."

-xxx-

Once Red Flight had assembled in the mess hall and gotten their meals they huddled around one of the metal tables, swapped horror stories from their solo training experience, discussed what rumors they had of their new competitors in Blue Flight, and Adama did his best to pry a little history out of each of them.

Tobias was a hotshot pilot from Tauron and came from a strict military family. William could see the sparkle in the young Viper jock's eyes when he talked about his younger siblings that he'd left behind when he had joined the Fleet. Cain had two younger brothers, twins, just a year away from entering the Academy and a younger sister a couple of years behind them.

"She's only fifteen, but she's been at the top of her class since, well, forever," sighed Tobias. He leaned back in his chair and grinned. "She wants to be just like her big brother. Who could blame her? I _am_ the best," he laughed.

Tobias went back to chewing on his rehydrated steak and after a comment on how it tasted like rubber the conversation passed on to Alexa. She was the shortest in the group, her brunette hair was in a tight ponytail and she appeared to be annoyed at having to be friendly with anyone. She rolled her chocolate brown eyes at Tobias and propped her feet up on the table. The rest of them pulled their trays as far away from her boots as possible.

"I'm Piconese, born and bred and I know how to get a job done," she said. "We'll see if the wonder boys here have the chops."

Despite an attempt to prompt her with another question, apparently that information was all Alexa deemed necessary to share.

The wonder boys to which she had referred were Daniel Novacek and Xander Simms. Danny looked like a troublemaker. He had a mischievous expression and his bullshit attitude became apparent the second he threw a potato chunk at Alexa.

"Anytime little girl," said Danny with a wide grin. "I'll take you down." Danny was soon too busy verbally fencing with Alexa to answer any more questions. Xander sighed from his seat next to Danny and kept eating.

"You'll have to excuse Xander. He's a bit shy," said Nia, the last member of their group. She didn't really seem the pilot type. With silky dark hair, green eyes that Adama could swear were almost turquoise and a sweet smile, Nia looked more suited to cheering for Pyramid players than flying a Viper. But the wings on her uniform said she was qualified and her presence among them said that she was one of the best.

"You two know each other?" asked William while he ignored his own tray of noodles.

"From flight school," replied Nia with a glance over at Xander. "He's so quiet that you'll think he's been vaporized." That managed to conjure a smile of amusement from Xander and a nod before he returned to his food. Xander looked to be somewhere in his late twenties, but his hair was bleached white and his tranquil disposition lead to the impression that the junior lieutenant was perhaps a bit wiser than his years.

Nia kept up some idle talk about her sister "the normal one" who didn't feel the need to pursue a military career of any kind. Danny and Alexa had calmed themselves and were finally civilized enough to merely glare at each other from across the table. Tobias did his best to interject some lighthearted comments of his own and Xander kept his pale blue eyes fixed on his meal until he was finished.

By the end of the meal, William had decided who would be wingmates and how he was going to manage his team: with lots of patience. They were now a part of his ever-expanding family, his new children to watch over until they could be forged into a cohesive team.

* * *

AN: Next part's in beta. It'll be up as soon as possible.


	5. All the Marbles

_22 Years before cylon attack__  
William Adama age 42  
Location: Picon Controlled Space – Alpha Training Range_

"Let's take it easy on this one, all right." William sat in the cramped enclosure of his Mk II cockpit and had just finished his preflight checks. _Sixty seconds to launch._

Red Flight was in the launch tubes aboard the heavy cruiser _Cerberus_. The mission was a simple race between Red and Blue. All they had to do was make it through an artificial asteroid field and back to the cruiser. The only rule was that direct attacks upon any Viper were forbidden. Anything else was fair game.

"I can't believe I really have to fly second to this frakwit," groaned Alexa over the wireless. William had paired Alexa and Danny together in hopes that their mutually competitive natures would fuel them to do their best. Nia knew Xander's quirks so Adama hadn't felt any need to break their report. Besides that, he wanted the hotshot, Tobias, under his careful watch as much as possible.

"Hey, it's no picnic for me either," Danny shot back. "I'd take the silent brick over you any day."

"Cut the griping before I ground you both and make you clean my Viper with your tongues," said Adama. _Patience._ He was going to need a lot of patience. _Thirty seconds to launch._ "We only have a hundred explosive rounds apiece so we're going relay style. Don't stray too far. The EM interference is going to limit Dradis range. Watch your exit. This asteroid field is thick. I don't want anyone pancaked outta the tube."

"I think we'll manage," replied Tobias. Cain's sarcastic tone wasn't lost on William, but he ignored it. First missions were nerve wracking for everyone and it was better to be cautious in preflight than to have one of his new charges injured or killed on their second day.

_Ten seconds to launch._

Adama double checked his Dradis readout.

_Nine seconds. _All contacts registered.

_Eight. _Reviewed his navigation waypoints.

_Seven_. Flight suit diagnostics.

_Six._ All green.

_Five._ LSO over the wireless. "Maglock secure. Initiate launch sequence."

_Four. _Leaned back in his seat.

_Three. _"Clear for launch."

_Two._ Gripped the stick a bit tighter.

_One. _A deep breath.

_Launch_.

The maglock jerked his Viper forward and he hurtled down the launch tube out into space. William activated his thrusters, took a second to readjust his orientation and eased his speed up to two thirds. He made a quick assessment that everyone was out of the tubes safely and then it was time to go.

"Kamikaze, Hammer—Clear the road."

"Wilco, sir." Alexa and Danny sped ahead and used the explosive rounds to clear asteroid debris out of the way.

"Watch your speed Achilles," warned Adama. Tobias was weaving in and out of obstacles just ahead. So far the pace was easy with the point leaders doing all the work. The real action would be on the way back.

Suddenly, a brilliant white flash erupted ahead at Adama's ten o'clock.

"What the frak was that?" came Tobias' startled voice.

"'Kaze, break! Break! Break! Now—" Danny was panicked. "Frakking hell! Alexa, where are you?"

"Nobody said these things had Tylium deposits in them!" Tobias had dropped behind William like a scared puppy.

"This isn't flight school anymore," snapped Adama. _Frak._ "'Kaze, Hammer, you still green?"

"Frak me! Almost took off my nose, but I'm green," came Alexa's breathless reply.

"Still green." Danny sounded marginally calmer.

"Fall back to tail."

"Frak! Here they come!" said Nia. Blue Flight had finally moved in to harass them.

"Husker watch your four!" warned Tobias. Adama glanced over his right shoulder and banked his Viper to the left to avoid a collision with a member of Blue Flight.

"Stay outta their way. Stay focused," said Adama.

Despite his efforts to keep the situation under control, chaos erupted all around them. White flashes—a hailstorm of debris sprayed across his canopy—shouts over wireless that barely registered—evasive banking and bursts of speed—blaring proximity alarms—heavy G braking—heavier acceleration and then within seconds—open space.

It took a moment for the new surroundings to register. As soon as William realized he'd reached the turnaround point he wrenched the stick back and accelerated into a body-crushing flip. A grunt escaped his chest and the muscles in his jaw flared with pain from his clenched teeth. He dove headlong back into the asteroid field and tried to assess the situation.

Tobias was on his six with two blue bandits close behind. Dradis identified them as Cutter and Maximus. _Zephyr and Marcus._ _This is just great._ The rest of Red Flight was still engaged with the remainder of Blue Flight and struggling through toward the turnaround.

"Achilles—Punch it for home," ordered Adama. "Keep 'em busy out there Red Flight." A chorus of wilcos answered back over the wireless.

William accelerated to the maximum safe speed recommended for the range. Tobias pushed his Viper past the safety limit and overtook William. _Show off. _Zephyr, the trailing blue bandit, veered off with an abrupt burst of speed into the cover of the field. _Is he frakking nuts—No time—_Marcus was gaining.

There was sudden flash of white just off Adama's right wing. He yanked his Viper away as debris impacted with the side of his craft. He glanced at his readouts—still green. _Thank the Gods._

Then there was another flash from a Tylium blast farther up, just behind Tobias. Marcus was blasting away at the few asteroids left in their route back, trying to force them out of the semi-clear corridor of space that Red Flight had carved.

"Hit the afterburners Achilles. Watch out for Cutter," said William. "I'm gonna deal with this frakhead." He saw Tobias' thrusters flare and the Viper shot even farther ahead.

William decelerated suddenly and rolled his craft to the right. Marcus flew right by. Now it was Adama's turn to demolish a few asteroids. He dropped below the flight deck and aimed for a potato shaped asteroid that was spinning lazily toward the nose of Marcus' Viper.

His thumb pressed down the firing button. A quick burst of explosive rounds chewed apart the rock. They struck Tylium and it ignited. This time the Tylium flash was nearly blinding and Marcus broke course. Once his eyes readjusted, Adama saw that not only had Marcus broken his course, he had run. Adama smiled momentarily. _What, don't want to play anymore?_

William glanced at his Dradis. Marcus was headed steadily out of range. Tobias' transponder was on the edge of the screen. There was one contact from Blue Flight, near Tobias, that registered only at random intervals. The distance between one appearance and the next suggested that it was moving recklessly fast, cutting through the field like it was open space. _Zephyr. So that's why they call him Cutter._

"Achilles. Sitrep."

"We've got a problem," answered Tobias. "_Cerberus—_She's not here. Decoy drones."

"Red leader, this is Kamikaze. Our little blue friends have left the party."

"They're scattering," confirmed Nia. "Should we pursue?"

"Frakking hell. Which one do you suggest we follow?" snapped Danny.

"Do not pursue. Repeat, do not pursue." _Think fast. Where would she have gone? _He thought back to the mission briefing and conjured up a mental picture of the general layout of the field… He had studied the field information because he knew no one else in his flight had been paying attention and first missions always made him nervous. _Where would she go? How could she hide?_ There was an area that stuck out in his memory because it wasn't normal, even for a synthetic asteroid range. It was a void, just off the center of the field. It wasn't quite large enough for a battlestar, but just right for a heavy cruiser.

"Red Flight redirect from _Cerberus'_ last known, bearing one five nine, carom zero three zero," ordered Adama. "Move it." _Zephyr must have reached the landing zone first somehow._ _That's why Marcus ran; he knew that our return course was a dead end._ _Frakking hell._

Adama sighed and redirected toward his target coordinates. He pushed his Viper through the field. He had to keep making sudden course corrections and even though the asteroids weren't much bigger than his craft, he strayed into their path more frequently the further he went and his reaction time was getting slower. His labored breathing was so loud in the confines of his helmet that it drowned out half the wireless chatter from his team. He blinked away sweat and his vision narrowed to the obstacles just ahead.

Everything else was blocked out until a Viper flitted by in front of him, followed closely by another. One of them was Tobias. The other was Marcus. Both were jockeying for the lead. Beyond them, William could see the A-shaped outline of the _Cerberus _and the lights of its central landing strip.

They were almost home.

And that's when everything went wrong. Marcus surged ahead and unexpectedly reversed thrust in front of Tobias. The young pilot rolled away to avoid the collision with the Viper ahead of him, but his tail struck part of an asteroid. William couldn't see anything after that. The momentum of his own Viper had carried him past them. Adama found himself in the lead.

"Achilles—"

"Green!—Just win it—"

He wanted to take another pass, make sure Tobias was all right, but this was black ops, this was where the mission came first—always. Besides that, he knew that despite the outwardly warm reception from his new comrades, they likely had their doubts about a pilot his age. He knew that whatever he did in the next few seconds was going to create an impression that would last for the duration of their time together.

Marcus had recovered from his stunt and was steadily gaining. The path to the deck was clear. William checked his Dradis. The rest of Red Flight wasn't far behind, but two other members of Blue Flight would intercept and overtake them before any of them would be close enough to land. If he didn't make the landing this pass, it would be Blue Flight's win. _All right. Time to play for all the marbles._

William used the afterburners to stay ahead of Marcus and lined up his Viper level with the deck.

"Viper two seven one, _Cerberus_,you are clear for approach. Check your speed to one six zero. Call the ball."

"Viper two seven one, speed one eight three," replied Adama. "I have the ball."

"Two seven one, reduce your speed RFN." His speed was down to one seventy four and dropping steadily, but he didn't have the time or available distance to brake gently.

"I can mange it." Marcus was coming in at an easy one hundred right behind him. William had to put down now.

"Negative two seven one. Wave off, wave off." _Too late. Lords protect me— _

He fired the reaction thrusters at full moments before his skids hit the deck. _This is gonna hurt._

The impact slammed him against his shoulder restraints and his vision went red, but he stayed conscious. _Ah Gods— _There was the brief roar of scraping metal and then it was over. He'd landed.

"Viper two seven one maglock secure," said the LSO. Adama barely heard him. "The CAG is going to have your hide."

William slumped in his seat and tried to catch his breath while the lift lowered his Viper through the airlock sequence and onto the hangar deck. He listened halfheartedly to the wireless and heard the LSO run through the landing procedures with the rest of the squadron. Marcus, Zephyr and Jakko had come in right behind him. Tobias, Alexa, Rajin and Danny followed. Nia, Xander, Lani and Nathan were the last ones in.

His Viper had been towed into its slot on the deck and the ladder was ready by the time he managed to pry off his helmet. He winced as he released the restraints. The deckhands pulled his canopy back and Adama took a quick survey of the hangar. Marcus had been towed to the slot across from him. The captain was already out of his Viper and talking to the chief of the deck. Off to William's right was Tobias. The back end of his Viper looked like a particularly rabid dog had chewed it apart. Tobias yelled at the deckhands to get a ladder over. _Oh, for frak's sake. Why did I have to get the hothead? _

"Help me out," mumbled Adama to the nearest knuckledragger. When he finally managed to climb out of the cockpit and make his way carefully down the ladder, Tobias had stormed halfway across the deck and was headed straight for Marcus.

"Hey! Moron! What the frak were you doing? You almost got me frakking killed out there!"

Adama intercepted the young pilot and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Frak off!" Tobias shoved William and Adama shoved him back harder.

"Don't start this kind of crap."

"Frak you! If not for you I'd be the one in command now get the frak outta my way!" William grabbed him by the front of his flight suit and forced him back a step.

"You think you can do a better job you're welcome to try, but I am not in the mood for your adolescent bullshit," growled Adama. He released Tobias. "Now are you sure you want to do this Lieutenant?"

The young pilot glared back at him and then, as if someone had flipped a switch, he snapped to attention with his gaze focused somewhere over Adama's shoulder. William could see the military training taking over.

"No, sir," he replied stiffly. "I—apologize, sir." Adama waited for Tobias to look at him again before he said anything.

"Go check on the rest of our pilots," William said calmly. He saw a flicker of genuine respect in the Cain's eyes before he saluted and left to check on Alexa.

"Good luck with that one," said Marcus. He had walked up to stand beside Adama. William cast Marcus a sidelong glance over his shoulder. He kept his expression blank and his voice flat, but it didn't take the menace out of his threat.

"If one of my pilots ends up dead because of you or one of your team I'll geld you with a rusty pair of scissors. Good luck on the next mission Captain."

"Officer on deck!" called out Danny from farther down.

Everyone came to attention.

Their new CAG, Major Barath, stopped in the middle of the hangar deck. His steel gray eyes swept across the deck and his hawk-like visage settled on William.

"Captain Adama, front and center!" William obeyed and came to a halt in front of the marginally older Major. _Lords of Kobol can't I just get off the deck in peace? _"Captain Adama, are you aware that you displayed a blatant disregard for landing protocol and that that kind of flathatting would normally get you kicked out of the Academy in a heartbeat?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you tell me what the frak you were thinking Captain?"

"I took a calculated risk in order to complete the mission, sir," replied Adama. The corner of the major's mouth twitched and he tilted his head slightly.

"Hmm." Barath smiled. It reminded Adama of the look a bird of prey gave to its next meal. "Lucky for you this is Special Operations and not the Colonial Academy. Here, we vigorously endorse risks and that is why you are now the top gun in the squadron. He has set the bar ladies and gentlemen and he's set it higher than you all think." The major glanced around him and paused momentarily at several of the younger pilots.

"Captain Adama has the experience to know his limits and that is what separates calculated risk from foolish gambles. I hope every one of you learns the difference. Do not be stupid with your lives," continued Barath. He finally rested his gaze on Marcus. "It damages my Vipers. As you were."

-xxx-

Adama had tended to his pilots, endured the debriefing, finally got out of his flight suit, cleaned up and changed into a fresh uniform. He even managed to collapse on his bunk in the pilot's quarters and rest for few blissful moments. A quiet knock on the hatch interrupted his relaxation.

"Yeah, what?"

Tobias poked his head in. William sat up on one elbow and waved the lieutenant in.

"Sorry, almost forgot something," he mumbled and went over to his bunk in the rear of the room. William heard Tobias rummage around for a minute before he wandered back into view.

"Can't lose this," he said with a grin and briefly held up what he'd been looking for. It was a picture of Tobias and his siblings with a Viper. Tobias was in the cockpit, his sister was perched on the ladder and his younger brothers were playing tag by one of the guns. The lieutenant tucked the picture away safely in his pocket and was about to leave, but he hesitated and turned back.

"Hey uh, I'm, sorry about earlier. Marcus and I have had a few run-ins before. Sometimes I get a little—" He shrugged. "I'm a frakkin' idiot," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "That was an impressive bit of flying you did by the way. That landing must've really killed…"

"I'm going to have the bruises tomorrow to prove it," William chuckled. "I was lucky—had a little help." He pulled a silver lighter from his pocket. "After my father retired a few years back he sent this to me, never lost a case as long as he had it with him. Got me through solo training. But, I think next time I'll leave the fancy tricks to the rest of you. I don't take punishment quite as well as I used to."

"Yeah, but at least we won. I don't think Marcus takes anything well. He was chewing out Blue Flight so loud they probably heard him all that way to CIC." Tobias laughed. "But, uh the rest of us were going to get some of that slop they call food, play a game or two of triad. You should join us. Try your luck." When Adama didn't answer fast enough Tobias gave him a little verbal nudge. "That is, if you're not too old to get out of your bunk."

"Just for that, this old man is gonna have to kick your ass," replied William. He slipped his lighter back in his pocket and stood up. "I hope your parents sent you a big allowance kid, 'cus you're gonna lose it all after I'm through with you."

Adama followed Tobias out the hatch and down the corridor to the galley. _Not bad as far as firsts go. Not bad at all. Our team will do just fine._

* * *

AN: Next part is in the works. Should be posted in a few days._  
_


	6. Hard Six

_21 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 43  
Location: Picon Controlled Space – Approximately 10 minutes from Picon _

"This is just cruel," Tobias sighed. William looked over from the cockpit of his Mk II to his right where Tobias had settled in formation beside him. The young pilot mustered a smile and a weak thumbs up.

"I hear you," replied William. He blinked hard a few times and tried to focus his vision on his readouts. "Torrent, how are you and Valor doing?"

"Oh, you know boss, just taking it easy," replied Nia. "Valor's still with us, but he might be napping for all I know."

"You're all a bunch of pansies," quipped Alexa. "Forty hours, is nothing. I could do another twenty four easy."

William chuckled and shifted slightly in his seat. "Dear Gods 'Kaze, don't give the CAG ideas," he replied.

This was their last training mission. Their flight had been deployed, alone, forty hours out from Picon. Their assignment consisted of over thirty-six hours of sitting in a cockpit without stims, combat landings every six hours to refuel and skids up in thirty minutes after every landing. They barely had enough time on deck to go to the head, devour a ration bar and down a cup of water before they were back in their Vipers, launched and in open space. And that was only stage one.

"Hammer, you've been awfully quiet," said William. "Still with us?"

"Yes, sir, just stargazing, sir," Danny replied.

William took his right hand off the stick and flexed it a few times to keep it from cramping. He returned his hand to the stick and tried to sit up straighter in his seat. His whole body hurt. His left leg kept falling asleep on him, he had a knot in his neck and he could feel the bruises on his shoulders that had developed over the last five landings. He was a mess of tight muscles and there was a nagging band of pain across his lower back.

"We're closing in on stage two," said William. "Everyone stay sharp. We'll be in visual range in under a minute."

"Oh holy frak—"

"Lords of Kobol…"

"I guess that's why CAG called it The Gauntlet."

William blinked a few times and shook his head, not really out of exhaustion, but just to be sure that he was seeing correctly. There were no less than a dozen battlestars positioned in a loose hexagon formation between them and Picon.

"They can't be serious," said Tobias.

"Can't we just, you know, fly around?" Alexa asked.

"Mission rules state we have to go through or we fail," reminded William. "Besides we don't have enough fuel for that. Remember, at least half of us have to make the landing or we get to do this all over again in two weeks. Watch yourselves. We've clobbered Blue Flight for the last six months. We can do this. Let's show 'em how it's done."

"Roger that Husker," replied Tobias.

"You got it, boss."

"Wilco," said Danny.

"Yeehaa!" cheered Alexa.

As they neared the battlestars William saw that the ships were in a staggered formation so that they wouldn't be firing on each other and there would be a wide enough gap between their flak barriers that a fresh pilot would be able to navigate the course easily. But none of them were fresh. They had been awake for nearly forty hours and were all physically drained. _This is gonna be one bitch of a ride._ His breathing quickened and he felt his heart rate increase.

They neared the first battlestar and William squinted to read the name. _Poseidon._

Red Flight passed by it and nothing happened.

_Areias. _They passed that one too.

_Taurus. _Still nothing happened.

"What the frak is going on?" whispered Tobias.

The next battlestar they neared was _Galactica. Hey old girl, I remember you… _Then it started.

A casual shot from one of _Galactica's _port guns and an instant later the space all around them erupted into bursts of fire.

"_FRAK!_"

"Break—Break—!"

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Motherfakker!"

"Everybody, _move!_"

Adama hit the afterburners. He was wide awake now. He dropped below _Galactica's _firing solution and realized belatedly that he had strayed into the range of another battlestar. He rolled his craft and was momentarily wrenched to the right. The restraint strap bit into his left shoulder, but at this point pain and adrenaline was just another way to stay awake.

"Contact! Contact!"

"Oh shit!"

William checked his Dradis. Multiple contacts. Vipers. They had launched from the battlestars that Red Flight had already passed. _Frak! _Tobias had forced his way ahead. Alexa was gaining on William. Nia and Xander were in a close pair about a hundred klicks behind. Danny was last and the Vipers were closing on his position.

"_Not_—_Friendly_!" shouted Danny. Adama winced at the noise. _Big mistake_. He had almost flown into another wall of flak and barely managed to save himself. _There's no way we're making it through this—_

"Krypter! Krypter! Krypter! Viper one one niner, request rescue.…" Xander was out.

"Frak! Krypter! Krypter! Krypter! Viper zero five three, request rescue. Repeat. Krypter! Krypter! Krypter!" Danny was out too. "Sorry guys."

"Hold it together," called out William. _There must be a better way through—Think of something! _Tobias had fallen back. William could barely keep up. If not for the Vipers behind them they might stand a chance. _Now I have an idea_…

"Red Flight, listen up!" snapped Adama. "Let them close. Loop back when you hit the next flak wall and run for home."

"Woooo! Wilco!" responded Alexa.

Tobias wasn't so enthusiastic. "Husker, are you nuts? They'll chew us to pieces."

"It's called a hard six. Trust me." William dodged out of the firing range of the battlestar _Virgos _and instead of correcting to avoid the next flak wall he accelerated toward it. The Vipers trailing him were within in twenty klicks. At the last second, he yanked the stick back and pulled his Viper into a tight loop. Every muscle instinctively tensed as the G's piled on.

S_ix, seven, eight. _

He couldn't breathe and his vision pulsed gray._ Come on. _

The afterburner cut out half a second later and the G's lifted. Adama gasped for air while he fought off disorientation. He used his reaction thrusters to slow down and banked his Viper into a gentler turn back toward Picon. His gamble had worked. The pursuing Vipers had overshot and were struggling to reverse course. There were only three more battlestars left to contend with.

"Scramble! Scramble! Now! Now!" He endured one last burst of acceleration to make it over the top of the next flak barrier. By the time he had cleared The Gauntlet and decelerated to a manageable speed Tobias had overtaken him. Alexa wasn't far off his right wing and Nia was still trailing by at least two hundred klicks. The pursuit Vipers had broken off and were headed for their landing zones.

William allowed himself a moment of relief. There was Picon right in front of him, a massive sphere of blue and green. It looked so serene. And silhouetted near the edge of the horizon was _Cerberus_. For just an instant, he let himself be enchanted by the beauty of it all, but his troubles weren't over yet.

"Ah, damn. Krypter! Krypter! Krypter! Viper seven seven one declaring an emergency. I'm losing main power—" Nia was out.

Now it was up to the rest of them to make their landings.

"Godsdammit," came Tobias' weary voice over the wireless. "Check nav."

William looked down and brought up his navigation readout. _Cerberus _was in an extremely low orbit right on the edge of Picon's mesosphere. At that altitude the atmosphere was dense enough to cause drag, which was actually helpful, but it also carried with it the risk of planetary waves, atmospheric tides and wake turbulence.

"We'll just have to watch our landing intervals," replied William.

"Viper twelve four four, _Cerberus_, you are clear for approach. Check speed to zero seven zero. Call the ball."

"Viper twelve four four, wilco," replied Tobias. "I have the ball."

William reduced his speed and continued his steady descent to line up with _Cerberus _while Tobias went through the landing procedures and made it home safely.

"_Cerberus_, Viper eight three five I am bingo fuel, with a slightly bent bird. Request priority," said Alexa.

"Viper eight three five, _Cerberus_, you have priority. Checkers green. Speed zero six nine. Call the ball."

"I have the ball."

William watched her make the final descent. Right before she entered the landing bay Alexa's Viper pitched violently and William saw one of her thrusters flare and die out.

"Frakki—" Her communications cut out. _She'll be fine. She better be fine._

William tightened his grip on the stick as his own Viper started to shake. _Frak._ It became increasingly difficult for him to concentrate on his instrument panel and every muscle in his body started to protest. _Don't break up on me you bastard. _

"Viper two seven one, deck is closed," said the LSO. "Delay indefinite. Execute circle-to-land maneuver until all clear."

"Negative _Cerberus_. Unable to comply. I am bingo fuel."

"Proceed with extreme caution, two seven one. You are clear to execute emergency landing."

"Acknowledged." William suddenly heard an alarm and looked down to see his status readout flashing red. _Fuel pressure zero._ The flak must have clipped a line and the vibration from his descent finally caused it to rupture. His speed had dropped to under forty and was still falling. Another alarm. _RCS valve failure._ He had lost yaw maneuvering. Then his entire reaction control system went down._ Aux RCS failure._ _Frak. Power failure— _His Viper was dead.

He was going to make the deck, but he had no way to maneuver. _Come on. Hold together for me. _His skids touched down with his speed at twenty, but only half the length of the deck in front of him was clear. Alexa's Viper had rolled and rested lengthwise across the landing strip. _Frak. __Frak frak frak, slow down!_

"Oh son of a_—_bitch."William managed to brace himself in the seat before the nose of his Viper slammed into the side of Alexa's craft. The shoulder restraints where the only things that kept his helmet from striking the console. He did his best to assess himself and his Viper. He still had pressure in both the craft and his flight suit.

"LSO, this is two seven one I'm still green."

"Acknowledge. We'll have a crew up there as soon as the deck is sealed and pressurized. Should only take a minute."

"Roger that," he sighed. "'Kaze you all right?" William could only see the underside of Alexa's Viper and so he couldn't see her or what kind of damage had been done. Tobias and his Viper were still by the right hand wall. He had missed the lift and was stuck on the deck until they could tow him.

"No cabin pressure," replied Alexa. Her voice sounded steady. "But I should be—oh, frakking shit—"

"What's wrong. Talk to me."

"Impact must've busted the seal on my collar—suit's losing pressure. No air—" William tried to think of something he could do, but fog clouded his mind. Now that he wasn't flying, his body wanted to rest. He forced himself to look around. The blast doors had come down and sealed the bay, but it would take another few minutes for it to fully pressurize and the deck crew hadn't made it through the airlock sequence yet. Then William noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Tobias, what the frak are you doing?" The lieutenant's canopy was open and he was in the process of undoing his restraints.

"I'm going to get her."

"Just wait a minute, deck's sealed, the crew can—"

"She might not have a minute!" snapped Tobias. He was already out of his Viper and headed for Alexa's craft. _Dammit_.

William followed suit, but he had a hard time moving. He fumbled with his restraints and it took him three tries to unseal his canopy. He climbed over the side of his Viper and dropped onto the deck. He fell to one knee and had to fight to stand up. _Ah—frak. _By the time he made it around the tail end of Alexa's Viper to her cockpit Tobias was already busy trying to pry the canopy open.

"Gimme a hand," he said.

The crash had bent the frame on the canopy and Tobias couldn't get it open by himself. William found a handhold near the side and helped him pull. It wouldn't budge. He took a deep breath and they tried again. This time it broke free. Tobias scrambled to help Alexa and get her free from her restraints. William just wanted to lie down. He leaned against the damaged craft for support and slumped into a half sitting position.

"I got you. I got you," mumbled Tobias as he pulled Alexa away from the wreck. "Alexa. _Alexa!_" She wasn't conscious.

William was having a hard time breathing and he had a sudden headache. He looked down at his oxygen gauge. His vision blurred, but he could tell that it was still in the green. _What…can't… _Sleep deprivation and the stress on his body had finally taken its toll. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and passed out.

-xxx-

"Captain Adama. Captain Adama can you hear me?" William twitched and opened his eyes. He squinted in the sudden bright light. "He's fine." The deckhand that had awakened him walked out of view. Adama heard him call someone over.

William reached up and felt his head. Then he realized he shouldn't have been able to do that. His helmet was gone. He took a quick appraisal of his surroundings. He was on the hangar deck, propped up against a bulkhead. His helmet was on the floor next to him and his Viper was just a few meters away on his right.

"Our fearless leader rejoins the conscious," said Tobias as he walked over and stopped to help William to his feet. "You gave me a bit of a scare there."

"How's Alexa?"

She appeared out from behind a Viper and moved to join Tobias.

"Got a preview of the hereafter. I wasn't impressed," she said with a tired smile. "Rest of the flight transferred in a couple of minutes ago. Technically I did land on the deck so I'm pretty sure we passed."

"I hope so. I don't think I can do that again for awhile," replied William. Before he could say anything else, a loud cheer from Danny interrupted them. Nia and Xander followed close behind. They both looked exhausted and leaned on each other for support.

"That was some mission," said Danny.

"Oh, please." Alexa rolled her eyes. "You were the second one out."

"At least I didn't completely trash my Viper," he retorted.

She was about to try and put Danny in a headlock when the CAG strode into view.

"Red Flight, attention!"

They did their best to line up and stand straight, but after everything, it was a hard for them to keep from falling all over each other. Nia in particular seemed to have developed the giggles and William had to fight to keep a straight face.

"Even though the knuckledraggers are still hauling pieces of Viper off the deck," began Major Barath, "you will all be happy to know that you passed. To mark the occasion you will be given new callsigns and three months leave starting tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred. Now get the hell off my hangar deck and get some frakkin' sleep. Dismissed."

Adama was more than happy to obey those orders. He barely made it back to quarters and out of his flight suit before he collapsed onto his rack and immediately fell asleep.

-xxx-

The next morning Red Flight assembled in the _Cerberus' _ready room. They stood at attention in a line at the front of the room while Major Barath finalized their new status as a Colonial Fleet Unit. William knew that without a doubt all of them were battered and still exhausted, but that each of them stood there as if it was nothing, as if the thought of sitting down in the comfortable red leather chairs behind them wasn't the most tempting thing in the universe.

"Lieutenant Tikaru, you are henceforth a member of Fighter Squadron One, Colonial Fleet Special Operations, Section Fourteen Bravo. For the purposes of all further special operations your wireless callsign is Nomad. Congratulations."

Major Barath pinned a silver and black Colonial seal onto the sash that ran across Nia's dress grays. The new callsign was not only to signify their completion of training, but it was a security measure meant to prevent them from being identified while they conducted what the Colonial Fleet euphemistically referred to as "unofficial" missions.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a salute. He returned the salute and moved down the line.

"Lieutenant Simms, you are henceforth a member of Fighter Squadron One, Colonial Fleet Special Operations, Section Fourteen Bravo. Your new wireless callsign is Snipe. Congratulations." Major Barath repeated the process with Xander. The young pilot nodded and saluted.

"Lieutenant Novacek, you are henceforth a member of Fighter Squadron One, Colonial Fleet Special Operations, Section Fourteen Bravo. Your new callsign is Bulldog. Congratulations."

"It's about time." Danny laughed and saluted.

"Lieutenant Ciazo, you are henceforth a member of Fighter Squadron One, Colonial Fleet Special Operations, Section Fourteen Bravo. Your new callsign is Kalypso. Congratulations."

Alexa didn't say anything, but her guarded smile gave her away. She was overjoyed. She saluted and the major moved onto Tobias.

"Lieutenant Cain, senior grade, you are henceforth a member of Fighter Squadron One, Colonial Fleet Special Operations, Section Fourteen Bravo. Your callsign is Hades. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," he said with perfect military composure, but as soon as the major had returned his salute, Tobias' expression was one of untainted delight.

Then Barath stopped in front of William.

"Captain Adama, you are henceforth a member of Fighter Squadron One, Colonial Fleet Special Operations, Section Fourteen Bravo. Your callsign is Zeus. Congratulations."

Adama's muscles ached, he was bruised and he could barely stay standing, but at that moment, as Barath pinned the seal to his chest, none of that mattered. He had made it back into the Fleet and back into a Viper. He had survived solo training and unit training.

William saluted the major and looked to his left toward the rest of his team. They had all survived. They were family. He knew that, no matter what happened, they would stay family. It was one thing that would never change.

"You should all be very proud of your accomplishments," continued Barath. "You've completed unit training without any serious injury or loss of life. Blue Flight wasn't so lucky. None of them made the landing this morning and they lost Lieutenant Durante. Because they lost a pilot, they will be reassigned and will have to repeat their training. You might not see them again for a long time. Never forget that this is a dangerous business you're in. I look forward working with you all when you return from your much deserved leave. Primus, Fourteen Bravo, fall out!"

They filed out of the ready room and returned to their quarters. Before they could change into their day uniforms Tobias grabbed a camera from his locker and persuaded a passing crew member into taking a picture of them. They crowded together with William in the middle. He rested a hand on Tobias' shoulder. Nia had her arm around Xander as they stood together on William's left. Danny was half on one of the bunk ladders with Alexa trying to pull him down. Every one of them had a triumphant smile on their face.

Once Tobias was satisfied and had retrieved his camera, they all changed and packed for home. Cain was going to go back to his family on Tauron. Nia and Xander would be returning to Scorpia. Danny had a girl back on Virgon to visit and Alexa was going to stay on base at Fleet Headquarters.

William, of course, would head home to Caprica, to his wife and his sons. He hadn't seen them since he started training a year ago and he wondered how much he had missed. And yet… part of him didn't want to go back. Part of him wanted to stay on the _Cerberus_ because even though his life in the Fleet wasn't safe, it was something that he knew he could handle.


	7. The Narrow Road

_21 Years before cylon attack  
Laura Roslin age 31  
Location: Caprica – Caprica City Government Center Plaza_

_Teacher of the Year. _Laura sighed inwardly. Today couldn't have been a worse day to be receiving an award. In any case, it was mostly a chance for the mayor to look good in front of the press before the upcoming election year.

She wanted to go home.

Well, truth be told, she didn't really want to go home, she just didn't want to be in front of all these people, or listen to the mayor discuss his plan to improve the education system. Adar's plan sounded nice, even if it had no basis in fact. The truth was that the Caprica City school district was in a horrible state and it would take more than a budget increase of an extra one or two million cubits to fix it. Oh well, he was a politician and a charismatic one at that, it didn't really matter what he said, the media and the voters would believe him anyway.

At least it was an outdoor event and the weather was pleasant. The general crowd had gathered on the grass below the steps to the Mayor's Office where she stood and the reporters had all assembled in front of the plaza's rectangular water feature. Laura sighed and lost herself for a moment in the simple pleasure of the gentle breeze that carried mist from the fountains and the faint smell of lilacs. But the moment passed quickly and reality beckoned.

"…I am honored to present Miss Laura Roslin with the Teacher of the Year Award for promoting the value of Colonial history to her students and for inspiring those around her with a love of learning."

"Thank you mister Mayor," she replied. They posed for the obligatory picture of him handing her the award. It was a wooden plaque in the shape of an octagon and was engraved in gold lettering that read:

_Caprica City  
Teacher of the Year  
For Achievement in the Teaching of History  
Presented by: Mayor Richard Adar  
To: Laura Roslin  
13/56/9902_

Then there was the requisite thank you handshake. She stood there with a polite smile and did her best to ignore the furious clicking from the cameras. Her attention drifted from the mayor's black pinstripe suit and focused on the warmth of his hand and then on his smile. He had a tranquil smile and his hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, but she supposed that was the trick to politics, to seem genuine no matter the situation.

It was a trick she had mastered herself, ever since the accident. It would be seventeen years today since it happened. Her attention was abruptly called back to the present as the mayor released her hand. Anyone else might have forgotten what to do or say after being so distracted, but she had years of practice in saying one thing while thinking about another and recovered from her wandering thoughts with ease. She spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with the press and Adar the same way she had spent that morning: on autopilot.

For the last seventeen years, she had made it through this one day preoccupied and lost in a cloud of denial, until she was alone. As soon as Laura shut the door to her one bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of the Riverwalk Residential Complex, she sighed and finally let her mental barriers drop. The memory of that night seventeen years ago promptly came to the surface in pieces. _"Yes, this is she, who's calling?"_Laura walked down the short hallway. She set her award and her keys on the cherry wood end table to her right. _"Laura dear, we need to go."_ She didn't bother to turn on the lights. _"Mom, what happened?"_ The soft evening glow that shone through the large window on the opposite wall was enough to see by._ "Where are we going?" _

She went to the kitchen alcove on the left to retrieve a half empty bottle of Caprican Valley red wine that she'd left on the counter and poured herself a glass._"To the hospital dear. There was an accident." _As much as Laura enjoyed cooking, tonight she just wasn't up for it, honestly, the last thing wanted to do was eat. _"Are you Mrs. Roslin? I'm...sorry to… I'm afraid that your husband…they tried…nothing to be done." _She took her glass of wine and paused a moment to kick off her heels before she curled up on the couch. _"What about Elizabeth and Catherine?...with him…"_ Laura watched the darkening sky through the window across from her and took a sip from her glass. _"…died at the scene…the driver was drunk…struck the passenger side…so sorry…"_ As quickly as it had come the memory had faded away.

Laura finished her glass and set it on the coffee table in front of her. She sighed again and reached for the phone that rested on the other end table to her right. She dialed the number to Judith Roslin's hospital room from memory and waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hello mother." Laura kept herself under careful control.

"I heard about your award," said Judith. Her voice sounded hoarse and weaker since the last time they'd spoken, just two days ago. "Edward would have been so proud of you dear and your sisters too."

"I'm sure they would have." She glanced at the window and saw that it was beginning to rain. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired…I missed him terribly today. He was such a good man, your father."

"I remember." Laura closed her eyes took a deep breath. "I'll come by and visit tomorrow."

"Oh, good. That will be nice."

"You should get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

"Okay dear. May the Lords watch over you."

"You too." Laura hung up the phone and rested her head against the back of the couch. _Somehow, I think the Lords stopped watching over me a long time ago._ The room was nearly dark and she could tell by the sound of it that the rain had built up into a steady shower.

She got up to turn on the lights and then went into her bedroom to change out of her lavender silk blouse and black skirt into a paint-stained white t-shirt and blue cotton pants. She walked barefoot back out into the room and went over to the opposite corner where her easel stood on an old white sheet to protect the hardwood floor. She placed a blank canvas on the easel, set her stereo to play one of her favorite violin pieces, at low volume of course, and picked up a large, flat paintbrush.

Laura held the brush handle between her teeth momentarily while she looked to the window and decided which colors she wanted to start with. She chose carbon black, ultramarine, viridian and zinc white to add to her palette. Normally she painted simple waterscapes to relax after a long day. Her best work she hung on the walls, the rest she painted over. Above her couch was the pool in the government plaza and above her bed was the wide expanse of the Caprica City oceanfront at sunset. But tonight she needed a challenge that would require all of her attention and the weather had decided ever so kindly to provide her with one.

The rain traced V-shaped patterns down the broad pane of her window and shimmered where it reflected the light from her apartment. _Perfect. _She had nothing to do tomorrow except visit her mother, so Laura stayed up that night and painted the rain.

* * *

AN: Thanks to the reviewers so far. The next part is in the works, but it might be a while. As I did in the beginning, I implore patience and faith while I struggle through. Thanks again for reading. 


	8. Blank Canvas

_21 Years before cylon attack  
Laura Roslin age 31  
Location: Caprica – Caprica City Riverwalk Residential Complex_

Her canvas stared back at her, resolute in its emptiness. Laura had been struggling for the last twenty minutes to recall the image of the cascading fountain in the lobby of the Seacade Memorial Hospital, to no avail. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the echo that her black pumps had made on the amber colored marble floor of lobby. She tried to visualize the way the light came down in shafts through the high glass ceiling, how it made the water sparkle, but instead she was faced with the memory of walking down a narrow white hall that smelled like recycled air and chemical disinfectants to her mother's hospital room.

Laura took a deep breath. _Try again._ She closed her eyes again and instead of wrestling for the vision of the fountain that she wanted, she let her mind drift. The first image that surfaced was of the flowers she had brought for her mother, orange tiger lilies to match the yellow rose she had brought on the last visit. The lilies had ended up tucked in around the rose in a short glass vase on the windowsill. _Now think back, remember the fountain… _

The morning news report flooded into her mind instead. _"…message from the S.F.M. was released last night…_ _'You reap what you sow.'…__special operations in recent months…capture of S.F.M. terrorists…Thomas Zarek_ _is still at large_…" Laura shook her head to drive the mental chatter away. She set her brush down on the ledge of the easel and left her palette on the sheet on the floor.

"Fine." She needed dinner anyway. Laura walked away from the blank canvas and into the kitchen. She pulled a large pot from the dish rack by the sink and half filled it with cold water. She set the pot on the stove, put the lid on it and turned on the rear burner. Laura inadvertently smiled to herself while she waited for the water to boil. There had been one highlight in her day: Doctor Gallagher. To say that she thought he was handsome would be a severe understatement.

It wasn't simply that he filled out his lab coat quite nicely or that his calm gray eyes matched well with his dark hair. _So, Laura, what's the field trip this year?"_ It was his complete lack of pretension. _"A lot could change in few months yet, but I'm hoping to fit in a visit to the Thesus Library,_ _along with the Delphi Museum."_ It was the genuine inner tranquility he exuded that Laura wished she could do more than just mimic. _"Delphi isn't far, but the trip from to Picon is like what, two hours, with thirty screaming kids." _And most of all it was his soft chuckle that she tried to coax out of him as often as possible. _"Two and a half hours actually. And my students don't scream. They politely shout."_ When he laughed, it made her feel as if the walk through the hospital to her mother's room wasn't really as thoroughly soul-destroying as it was.

In all honesty, she just couldn't help flirting with him when the opportunity presented itself, even though she knew there wasn't a chance for anything more. He was her mother's doctor. _And there's probably some sort of policy against dating patients' relatives…_

Laura continued the process of cooking up a batch of fettuccini pasta amid her thoughts of Dr. Gallagher. As glad as she was to have seen him today, their encounters tended to be double-edged. After a quick review of Judith's vitals and her general well-being, he had taken Laura aside to discuss her mother's condition. _"If she ends up in the hospital again with something like pneumonia or the flu—Odds are she won't be leaving_._" _She stirred the pasta with a wooden spoon. _"With the delay that another illness would incur she could end up terminal."_ Once the noodles were reasonably separated she leaned on the counter to the left of the stove and waited. _"As much as I hate the stuff, we'd have to switch her over to diloxin and if that doesn't work—Then nothing will."_

She had replied that she understood, that it was okay. He didn't say anything else. He had only looked at her for a moment with the faintest crease in his brow and then continued down the hall to finish his rounds. Only now, while she stood in the kitchen, did she realize that it wasn't okay, it was—well, she didn't know really, all she knew was that she felt like something was missing. She didn't have a name for it, there was just a certain emptiness, no, a certain _numbness_ that had built up over the years.

She wished that she could remember what it had been like before, before her mother's diagnosis, before the numbness, before the accident.

But there was no before.

At least not one that she could remember. It was lost somewhere, buried in the depths like a shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean, inaccessible and abandoned.

She checked the pasta. It was done. Nearly over done in fact. Laura drained the water out of the pot and went to the fridge for some butter to put on the noodles while they were still hot. She preferred the light flavor from butter as opposed to a more overpowering sauce. She stirred the butter in then took a blue plate out of cupboard and spooned a large helping onto the plate. She grabbed a fork and went to sit on the couch. While she ate she stared at the canvas across from her and decided that painting just wasn't going to work tonight.

So after she finished her dinner and got ready for bed she settled for reading a chapter of_ The Road to Earth_. It was a decent fantasy novel that did the trick of letting her relax enough to get some sleep. It even managed to spark a few inspiring dreams.

She would paint again tomorrow.

* * *

Author's Note: Apologies for the long delay on this one...it was a rough one to write and some RL issues came up, but the next one shouldn't take too long and then the posting pace will pick up again. Thanks again for reading, the reviews, and the patience. 


	9. All She Could Hope For

_21 Years before cylon attack  
Laura Roslin age 31  
Location: Caprica – Caprica City Mayor's Office_

"I can't believe this," fumed Adar. He paced the length of his small wood paneled office. "Have you seen the papers?" He tossed a copy of the _Caprican Times_ across his tidy chestnut-colored desk toward Laura. The headline read _Teacher of the Year Challenges Mayor._ "You're lucky I can't have you fired." He paused to straighten his pinstripe suit and sat down in his leather chair. "The only thing I don't understand is how that coward Terrance Whitmore convinced you to stand up for him."

"Mister Mayor you didn't seriously expect that the district school board was going to let you pass that legislation without a fight did you?" She sat across from him in a black suit jacket and skirt with perfect aplomb. "You're proposing to dismantle half of the education bureau's structure, appoint a new board and cut their budget. Mister Whitmore didn't have to do much convincing to get me here. Your proposal affects everyone in Caprica City."

Terrance Whitmore hadn't convinced her so much as begged for her to meet with the mayor. She wasn't the type to get involved in politics, but as he'd put it, the board had him against a wall and Adar wasn't being very receptive. Terrance had been desperate when he had contacted her.

It was common knowledge that Adar was looking to run for Governor of Caprica and the local primaries were next year. If his own endorsed Teacher of the Year sided against him in favor of the board, it would make for very bad press that his political opponents would be more than happy to use against him. Because of Adar's need to avoid that eventuality, she was the only one who had sufficient leverage to convince him that it was in his best interest to negotiate with the board instead of having them all replaced, Terrance included.

Laura had reluctantly agreed only after Terrance had started to list off all the negative effects Adar's restructuring policies would likely have on the district's students and partly to make him shut up. Once a meeting had been set with the mayor, Laura had gone about her business. Someoneelse, probably someone with more of a spine than Terrance, had leaked the news of the meeting to the press and of course, they'd already had a field day with it.

"I made a promise when I took this office to fix this entire city's school system," Adar sighed. He had stifled his indignation and was being considerably more diplomatic. "There are nine hundred eighty-seven public schools in this city and there are students on Sagittaron who are performing better on their exit exams. I have just over two hundred fifty schools on the verge of closing for lack of funding, nearly four hundred in need of major renovations and do you have any idea how many students we lost this year to shootings because of inadequate campus security? Thirty three. And I've been to all their funerals. That board has been undermining my reform efforts since I started here five years ago. It's time for a change."

"With all due respect, sir, isn't the timing just a little convenient? You're in your second term, beginning your campaign for governor, and now, of all times, you want to seriously deal with this issue?" Adar's eyes narrowed at that response. _Didn't like that did you?_ "The people of Caprica City elected the board and—"

"The _people_, wouldn't know what—" Adar stopped himself from another outburst and leaned forward in his chair. Laura realized in that moment that she had misjudged her earlier assessment of the Mayor. During the press event a couple months ago, she had assumed that he was just behaving as if he was having a good time, but now it seemed obvious that his acting abilities were at best, minimal.

"Miss Roslin, if you can think of another way to get _something_ productive done when that board just sits on their collective asses, raises their salaries, lays off my teachers and twiddles their thumbs, please, enlighten me. Because short of replacing the lot of them I don't see another option." Laura raised an eyebrow at that statement. _For a politician, he's remarkably incapable of self-restraint. He has no chance of becoming governor if he conducts himself like this all the time._ But there was something in his rather impassioned self-defense that Laura found, well, endearing. He wasn't like the rest of the politicians out there after all.

"You can still negotiate with them," she replied. "You're already threatening to remove them from their jobs. They seem very willing to listen to alternatives at this point."

"Talking hasn't worked," he countered. "Talking got me into this mess."

"Well, then mister Mayor, maybe they just don't like you." _Did I just say that?_ Adar's less than amused expression and his marked silence told her that she had. _I can't believe I said that._ Before she could apologize, Adar unexpectedly smiled.

"Maybe you're right," he said. He leaned back in his chair and examined the ceiling. "Who am I kidding? You're definitely right. They hate me. They absolutely, hate me." A moment later, his gaze dropped from the ceiling and he looked at her squarely. "They seem to like you."

"What—?"

"Just hear me out," he insisted. "Terrance, the rest of the board, they're already willing to let you do the talking for them. They must think you're honest." _Only by accident. _"Trustworthy. You seem capable of keeping a cool head. I could really use someone like you with me, to manage the situation with the board, help me out with my campaign…"

"Mister Mayor." Laura found herself at a loss for words, so she just said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm flattered, but I'm a teacher, not a politician. I don't have any experience—"

"That's exactly why you'd be the perfect choice." He continued before she could object. "Miss Roslin, in order to fix the system I need someone who understands it, someone who can tell me what changes will actually make a difference and I think that person is you. There are a few days left until the end of term, just finish out the school year and then get back to me. I'll put my proposal on hold until then and if you agree to help, I promise, I will find a way for the board to keep their jobs. What do you say?"

"I'll consider your offer mister Mayor," she said.

"Here, this is the number for my direct line." He handed her a slip of paper with the precisely handwritten numbers _9-202-456-1216_ and then rose to shake her hand before she left his office.

-xxx-

Laura Roslin sat on her couch and closed her eyes. She hadn't been able to paint for over a week, ever since her meeting with the Mayor. The school year had ended for her students four days ago on a wholly unremarkable note, mostly due to the fact the end of term field trip had been canceled by the new principal. He was the third one in less than a year and the most risk-adverse and dictatorial that they'd had in nearly a decade. He had cited the school's inability to chance any kind of financial loss as his reason for denying the trip. He went on to say that despite recent budget increases, money was still tight and the last thing Seacade Public Middle School needed was to get sued because some student was involved in an accident while on a school sponsored field trip. Laura eventually proved unable to sway him and so the Delphi Museum of the Colonies and theThesus Library of Picon would have to wait until she could try again next year. If there was a next year for her.

"_Just hear me out."_ The mayor's offer had been a tempting one. "_I_ _could really use someone like you with me."_ It was an opportunity to get out from underneath the school administration's frustrating bureaucracy, to shape the mayor's education policies and affect more students than just the ones she had in her class. But at the same time it would mean giving up teaching and it was something that, for all intents and purposes, ran in her blood. Her parents and sisters and even a few cousins were all teachers at one point. She was the last one in the family who was still teaching.

She knew that her answer to Adar's offer should be no. She couldn't just give up a career that she loved, a family tradition, one of the few anchors to her past that she had…but it wasn't just the offer that swayed her. It was Adar himself.

He wasn't simply a bad liar; he was an honest man. An honest man who genuinely wanted to make Caprica City a better place to live and work in. She knew as much as the next person that honest people did exist in politics despite the stereotype, but it was still something of a shock to actually encounter one and he probably wouldn't last long without help. His opponents in the governor's race were anything but scrupulous.

Then there was that moment, where she had inexplicably slipped and had told him exactly what she'd thought instead of a more polite alternative. _"Maybe they just don't like you."_ He had managed, somehow, to unbalance her and she wanted to know how he did that. Not even Dr. Gallagher with all his earnestness and warmth could get a response out of her that was anything other than feigned sincerity. Perhaps it was that Adar had a certain intensity that Dr. Gallagher lacked, or maybe it was something else entirely...

Laura knew that she couldn't sit on her couch forever. Adar expected an answer from her, eventually. She hadn't heard anything from his office so the pressure to make a decision was mostly her own doing and it was only going to keep getting worse. _Just get it over with._ She leaned over to her right and picked up her phone. It took her a minute to find the number for the direct line to Adar's office and she nearly gave up when she couldn't find the piece of paper that he had written it on. She eventually found it on the floor near the rear of her couch.

Laura tried to keep her hand from shaking while she dialed the number and waited for the mayor to pick up.

"Adar here."

"Hello, this is Laura—"

"Oh, yes, Miss Roslin I was hoping to hear from you soon." His voice sounded noticeably different over the phone, flatter, less intense, but it lost none of its persuasiveness. "Can I look forward to your help?"

Laura hesitated. She wanted to say no, that she couldn't give up being a teacher, even for a little while. But those words refused to be spoken. _What are you doing?_

"Yes." She swallowed and forced down the slight tremor in her voice. "Yes, you can mister Mayor." _No taking it back now. It's done._

"Wonderful, I'll have my secretary coordinate with you and set up a time to meet. I'm afraid I have to cut this short. I'm already late for a meeting. I look forward to working with you."

"So do I. Good bye." After she had hung up the phone, she realized that she had been holding her breath. She exhaled and got up to fix lunch. On her way to the kitchen she paused to turn on her wireless set and listened to the midday news.

"…_Price of bread may be on the rise as torrential rains on Aerelon continue to cause widespread flooding of wheat fields. For those of you just joining us, the top story this afternoon: S.F.M. terrorist leader Thomas J. Zarek was captured today after a protest outside the Labor Ministry Building on Sagittaron took a horrific and bloody turn. The following is an excerpt from his speech just moments before he detonated a truck bomb that left the Ministry in ruins: _

'_There is a sickness in the governing body of Sagittaron and it has gone untreated for too long! It has eaten away at the very fiber of the common good and I am here to see it end today. I'm bringing you freedom Sagittaron! Use it!' _

"_Authorities have not yet released any information on the death toll, but sources estimate casualties to be—"_

Laura turned off the wireless in favor of spending the rest of her day in peace, or rather in as much peace as was possible considering recent events. All she knew was that the next few years were liable to be anything but peaceful and all she could hope for was that she had made the right decision.

* * *

AN: Next part might be awhile. RL has gotten very, crowded, and I don't have a lot of time to write, but it should let up after the 4th of July weekend. No matter how long any single part may get delayed, do be assured I will finish the story. I always finish what I start. :) Patience and Faith -SVR


	10. One Thousand One

_21 Years before cylon attack (Day 365)  
William Adama age 44  
Location: Caprica – Delphi Base Housing_

"Viper seventy two forty two comin' in hot." William dumped a wriggling five year old Lee onto his bed and scrambled to bury him in his white and red covers before he could get away. Lee pulled his blanket off his head then flopped down onto his pillow with a goofy smile. William took a moment to check under the bed and open Lee's disaster of a closet and check that too. "Well, the room has passed inspection, no monsters in hiding. Deck secure?"

"Deck secure," replied Lee after he was finally settled in.

"No more sneaking into our room tonight or I'll have to revoke your flight privileges, understood?" Lee nodded. "All right then, lights out." William turned off the lights and closed the bedroom door behind him. He stood in the dark hallway and sighed. It had been a little over a year since his unit graduated from Spec Ops training and this morning had been the start of his second round of leave. It was becoming more of a shock when he came home and saw the changes in his sons that had been wrought in his absence.

The last time William had been home, Zak had still been mastering the trick of walking and when Lee had just turned five he had become increasingly prone to throwing the most gods awful tantrums. They had gotten progressively worse as time went on and after two months of screaming and yelling and crying and fighting, William had been deployed.

Now, nine months later, Zak was adept at getting into the oddest places, like earlier today when William had found him sitting on the top of the refrigerator. Lee was not only quieter, but he seemed to have finally accepted his brother as a part of his family. He had insisted that he be the one to get Zak down off the fridge and had climbed up on the counter to get within reach before anyone could object. After successfully rescuing his brother, Lee had spent had the rest of the afternoon by Zak's side, keeping him occupied, instead of trailing after his father all day like he used to do.

William sighed again before he left his spot outside his son's room and walked down to the end of the hallway. He fumbled for the doorknob and tried to slip into the bedroom as quietly as possible so that he didn't wake Carolanne again, but he wasn't quite familiar enough with where everything was to navigate properly in the middle of the night. He ended up bumping into _something_ on the way and suppressed a grunt of pain. Carolanne heard it anyway and asked him if he was okay.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

The sad irony of the situation didn't escape him. Here he was, a special agent who, six months ago, had finished a round of advanced tactical ground assault training with his team, and who could traverse through a veritable maze of obstacles and hazards without difficulty, yet he couldn't make it across his bedroom without injuring himself.

He put one hand out to find the edge of the bed before he ran into that too. Once he found it he paused to tug off his gray shirt and stripped back down to his boxers. He climbed into bed and felt along the left side of the mattress for Carolanne. His hand brushed her back and he felt her shift position.

"Lee all right?" she mumbled.

"He's all tucked in." William rolled over onto his side and draped an arm over her. "I thought he outgrew sneaking into our room."

"He did." William meant to ask what had happened with Lee, why everything was so different from what he remembered, but he drifted off before he could form the question aloud.

-xxx-

_20 Years before cylon attack (Day 1) _

William was awake at the first ring of the phone. His pillow muffled a curse. He lifted up his head and opened his eyes to find the phone on the nightstand on his right. He picked it up.

"Adama."

"Captain Adama." The man on the other end had a flat monotone that reminded William of his long past encounters with the shore police. "I am to inform you that you've been recalled. You are to report to _Cerberus_ by fourteen hundred today for briefing and special assignment."

"Understood." He fumbled a moment to hang up the phone, pushed back the bed covers and then sat up with his legs hanging over the side of the bed. He rubbed his face with both hands. The digital clock next to the phone read 5:47.

"Bill, what did they want?" He didn't look back at her side of the bed. He could feel her gaze on him while he reached for his dog tags and put them on. "Bill."

"I have to go." He leaned forward to grab his t-shirt, dark brown tank top and pants off of the steel gray carpet.

"But you just got home, they can't—" His jaw clenched while he tugged on his shirt, stood and tucked it into his pants. He left his belt unbuckled until he could find his uniform jacket.

"Anne," he warned. "Don't start this again. You know I'm on alert status. They can recall me anytime they want." He scanned the area, but the light that filtered in through the window blinds wasn't bright enough to illuminate the whole room. "You don't seem to want me here half the time anyway." Carolanne had sat up in bed with the covers pooled around her. Her pale blue eyes were fixed on him and her lips pinched together in a reproachful frown.

"Do you think I like taking care of two boys without you here to take them off my hands if I get tired?" Not on the dresser…not at the foot of the bed…not in the closet…_damn it_. "_They_ at least want you here. Do you have any idea how much Lee misses you?"

"Yeah, I had to put him back to bed twice. Where's my jacket?" He stooped to check under the bed. "Lee must have taken it, but I didn't see it anywhere in his room…"

"Bill!" William looked up over the edge of the bed. A muscle spasm sent a wave of pain across his neck and shoulders.

"_What?_" he snapped. He knew she wanted him to explain where he was going and why, but he didn't have anything better to say this time than he had the last time they had gone through this. He pushed himself to his feet. "What do you want me to do? Go back to being a deckhand on tramp freighters that barely pay worth a damn? Is that you want?"

"No." Her resolve buckled under the pressure of his glare. "No, but—"

"But what? I'm a soldier Anne, it's—" He forced himself to calm down. William walked around the foot of the bed and knelt down in front of Carolanne. He reached for her hands and held them in his own. "It's all I know how to do. I know I'm not around a lot, and I'm sorry for that, but it's a sacrifice that has to be made so that we can have a place to live. So our boys can go to good schools, so they can—so they can grow up in a safer world than I did. I'm doing this as much for them as for me."

William believed what he told her, in a sense, but only because the world he had grown up in had been full of controversy and war. The war had taken its toll, but he knew that he'd gotten off light. Unlike his friend Saul, William didn't get nauseous at the faintest whiff of machine oil, nor had he seen his shipmates torn open at the chest and left to die at the hands of rampaging Centurions. But he had seen enough then and he had seen enough now to know that what he was leaving to do would make a difference not just for his sons, but for all the people of the Colonies.

He leaned forward to kiss Carolanne and tell her that he loved her, but she turned her face away. He ended up kissing her on the cheek.

"I love you anyway," he said. He got back on his feet and headed for the door across from him. He paused on his way out to grab the duffel bag that he hadn't had even had the time to unpack and left the room to find out where Lee had hidden his jacket.

-xxx-

They were quiet. None of his team joked or laughed while they changed into their flight suits onboard _Cerberus_. They had every reason to be quiet today. Since they had last been on leave William and his unit had undergone further training and had been upgraded to the newest Viper Mk IVs. After that, _Cerberus_ had been reassigned to operate out of Sagittaron and provide air support for the anti-terrorism Marine squads as they conducted surgical strikes against SFM strongholds. Today was the culmination of all their efforts; at oh five thirty this morning the tribunal had come back with a verdict and a sentence. After a three month trial, Tom Zarek had been found guilty on all charges and sentenced to twenty years in prison. Per their request, William and his team were to escort Zarek's transport to the Tauron correctional facility and ensure that he arrived without incident.

William glanced covertly at his teammates while he removed his day uniform and donned his flight suit. Xander, already geared up, sat at the edge of his bunk with his eyes closed as he held a wooden figurine of Mars in his clasped hands. Nia kissed her silver and black Colonial seal pin and set it in her locker next to her uniform. Danny rummaged through the mess in his duty locker for his lucky cubit. He never flew without giving it a flip to see if today was a good day to fly. The past few months of their active duty it had been coming up tails, bad days all. It was hard to tell from the solemn look on Danny's face, but his slight nod before he replaced the coin led William assume that this time it had hopefully come up heads. Alexa wiped down her recently sharpened combat knife and fastened it to her utility belt. Tobias tucked his photo of his siblings into the side pocket of his flight suit over his right arm.

William set his carefully folded jacket on the top shelf of his locker. He had found his jacket earlier that day in Zak's room. Lee had apparently used it to cover Zak in lieu of his blanket. It had been a delicate operation to retrieve it, but William had managed to gather his things and leave home without waking either of his boys.

"_Raptors Five Sierra, Primus Fourteen Bravo report to the hangar deck for launch and rendezvous with Demons Twenty Foxtrot. All hands prepare for Echo phase of mission Tango Zulu."_

William grabbed his lighter from the shelf and slipped it into the nearest pocket on his suit. Time to go.

-xxx-

"Tauron Ground Authority to prison vessel _Kaiadas_ you and your escort are cleared for atmospheric entry on bearing four eight one, carom zero four zero."

"Zeus to all units—Prepare for final approach and descent," said William from the cockpit of his Mk IV.

The flight from Sagittaron to Tauron had been uneventful. No rogue vessels had impinged on their flight plan and their Vipers were all functioning within normal parameters. There was nothing anomalous on Dradis and nothing other than the prison ship and escort within visual range except the azure glow of Tauron's Aldebran Ocean peeking out from behind a white swirl of clouds. They were well outside the commercial transport and industrial shipping lanes and appeared to be nothing more than the standard escort for a prison vessel. Everything was going smoothly.

"We're going in standard hex-lat formation," continued Adama over the wireless. "Raptors on perimeter. Demons on points one through six. Primus will cover seven through twelve. Decelerate to match _Kaiadas_ and correct attitude to forty degrees."

"Why are we stuck on tail?" complained Danny.

"Because it's the most dangerous slot," replied Alexa. "Frakkin' moron."

"Give Bulldog a break Kalypso, he's not the only one eager to touch ground," said Tobias. "It's just plain wicked to wake me at oh six hundred, send me packing all the way to Picon and Sagittaron, only to spend all day flying home."

"Hades," Alexa replied. "Take a clue from Snipe and don't be such a frakking whiner—"

"Would you all shut the frak up!" The lead pilot for the Demons had been a grating, but thankfully silent presence until now. Marcus Adar and his team had made it through their training intact and were posted on _Hyperion, _operating out of Tauron. They had made contact with _Cerberus_ in orbit around Sagittaron and sent the Demons to aid Primus in the escort mission as part of Tauron's security policies.

"Why don't you shut it Marksman," snapped Alexa. "You didn't spend half the year dodging the SFM's mobile AA batteries or watching Marine convoys get blown into red mist by IEDs. Say one more word and I'll rip your lungs out through your—"

"That's enough Kalypso," said William. "We're not here to pick fights. We all wanted to see this one put away so let's cut the chatter and get it done. Nomad, adjust your course. You're still within _Kaiadas'_ projected atmospheric wake."

"Roger," replied Nia. "Course corrected."

"All units, brace for atmospheric entry. Changeover to autopilot and wireless blackout in fifty seconds." William leaned back in his seat and did one last confirmation on his readouts. Everything checked out fine, but it didn't help ease the knot in his stomach. Atmospheric entry was his least favorite part of flying and he was apprehensive about doing it in a Viper that lacked the flight history and familiarity of the Mk II, but then again a Mk II always felt like it was about to shake apart and the Mk IV was supposed to provide for a smoother ride.

Either way the moments that demanded the highest degree of perfection in flying would be the ones over which they had least amount of control. For three minutes or more, he'd be flying completely blind with the computer running attitude and velocity adjustments for most of the descent and his wireless would be practically useless. He would be on his own and reduced to a passenger in his own plane for far longer than he was comfortable with.

William felt the craft vibrating and had to resist the urge to squeeze his eyes shut as the noise changed from a rattle into a roar. _Smoother ride my frakkin' ass. _His breathing became irregular while he watched the temperature gauge climb. He gripped the controls until his hands hurt even though there would be no altering course if something went wrong. He started his count to keep himself calm.

_One thousand one_

_One thousand two_

_One thousand three_

_One thousand four_

_One thousand five_

…_._

_Two thousand fifty six_

_Two thousand fifty seven_

_Two thousand fifty eight_

_Two thousand fifty nine_

_Three thousand zero_

_Three thousand one_

_Dear Gods I hate this—_

By the time he regained manual control of his Viper and was able to assess the mission status he was on the verge of an anxiety attack. He broke out into convulsive laughter once he saw that everyone had made it safely and they had held formation the entire way down without a single position error. It was machine perfect. The Vipers' autosystems had all performed as expected.

"_Kaiadas_ to Tauron Ground Authority all escort ships accounted for. Request clearance to land."

"_Kaiadas,_ clearance granted. Control tower seven niner will be your landing coordinator. Safe landing. Ground Authority out."

Inside of an hour they were on the ground, Zarek and a handful of other prisoners were transferred to a barge and headed to the island detention facility. The mission was a success. Adama's apprehension turned out to be all for nothing. They were debriefed in orbit around Tauron onboard _Cerberus _and would be released to finish off the rest of their leave plus two days. Everyone would resume their interrupted plans except for William.

Saul was still on the freighter run between Caprica and Tauron so William decided to stick around for a few days until Saul's ship came in. He figured he could use a drink, or three, before he caught a transport back to Caprica.

* * *

AN: For anyone curious, Zarek's sentencing date is the change over day from one year before the attacks and another since his parole date was the day of the attacks. It does not correspond with the first of the Colonial year, but more like mid-September on Earth's Julian calendar (yes I figured out how their calendar corresponds with ours). And _Kaiadas_ is the name of a Greek location where prisoners were executed, great name for a prison ship I thought.

Apologies for the extra long delay on this one. RL was busier than planned, but now I'm free for half the week every week until August so forbidding any other large interruptions I'll have more time to write and post. I do plan on getting this done before Razor starts tearing gaping holes in my conjured backstories ) . Thank you all for reading (and reviewing...pretty plz). -SVR


	11. To Darkness All

_17 Years before cylon attack__  
William Adama age 47  
Location: Leonis Regional Space – Cerberus En Route to Picon_

-x-

"Move! Move! Move!"

"He's on my six! Get him off!"

"No Joy! I can't get a lock! There's too much cloud cover."

"Tally! One high! CBDR!"

"I got him! I got him!"

"I'm hit! Krypter! Krypter! Kryp—"

"Red four, watch your nine!"

"They're baiting. Reverse course!"

"Inbound ordinance bearing on Leonis! Frak! Target's a Tylium mine."

"It'll be Troy all over again—"

"Red two moving to intercept."

"I've got it. What are you doing? Red two abort!"

"You have a family."

"So do you! Abort! Frak—I said abort! Get back here!"

"There is no victory without sacrifice."

"_FRAK!_ Everyone break! Break! Break!"

A white flash seared across William's vision and he yanked his head away as the canopy of his Viper shattered around him. He felt something strike his left shoulder but there was only one thought in his mind—_Eject. _He couldn't reach the handle. The howling wind of Leonis' lower atmosphere drowned out the alarms. _Eject. _There was flare of pain in his shoulder as his hand wrapped around the ejection handle and he pulled. _From the darkness you must fall…_

-x-

"Captain Adama, sir, what a surprise meeting you here," said Tobias. The senior lieutenant was still the embodiment of military perfection in his dress grays and his roguish grin still ruined the entire impression of stiff discipline.

"It's Colonial Day where else would I be?" responded Adama with a glance back at the Mk II his sons were presently crawling all over. "What are you doing on Caprica?"

"My brothers are part of the honor guard in the parade and I'm the only one in the family who can handle a camera." He nodded toward Lee and Zak. "Those two rascals yours?"

"Yeah. Hey boys come over a second." Lee dutifully climbed down the ladder and jumped from the last rung onto the ground. After several prompts from his brother, Zak scrambled out of the cockpit and down the ladder with Lee watching to be sure he didn't fall. They trotted over and William introduced Tobias.

Tobias smiled again, tousled Lee's sun bleached hair, and insisted on a picture. Zak had responded impertinently and scrunched his face up for the camera, but when Tobias had asked him if he was going to be a Viper pilot just like his dad Zak had answered with an exuberant yes.

-x-

His parachute deployed just time to save him, but he still landed hard. Very hard. William cried out as the shock of his impact with the ground sent a fresh wave of agony tearing up his right leg before he collapsed onto his back.

"Son of—bitch—" He gasped for air, but it wasn't enough. He forced down his rising panic and fought to steady himself where he lay despite the insistence from his body that he was suffocating. His heart still raced and he was too dizzy to see straight so he felt around with his uninjured right hand. The rough fabric of his glove brushed his cheek and nose. The face shield of his helmet had broken. His oxygen supply had been dispersed into the thin atmosphere.

Pain. It was a persistent sensation, from the throbbing of his leg, to the sharp pain in his shoulder that intensified when he inhaled, and the headache that pulsed with every heartbeat. He clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he yanked a long shard of glass out of his shoulder.

"AH!—Ah, damn." He thrashed a moment and pounded his fist on the dirt, but he had to stop when his breath caught in his lungs and he started to cough. He tried to apply pressure to his wound, but he didn't have the strength to maintain it. Nausea and fatigue had set in. He knew in the back of his mind what it all meant, the headache, the shortness of breath, the sudden weakness in his body. He was hypoxic and wouldn't be able to remain conscious much longer.

_Failed and weak…_

-x-

"You guys should have seen our fearless leader in the airshow on Caprica yesterday," said Tobias while he tossed a few cubits into the growing pile at the center of the table. "He pulled this really wicked tailside during the tactical demo for the Mark Two."

"I was just going to go for a stall turn, but my boys were watching," said William. "Thirty. Bet's to you Kalypso."

"I'm in for fifty." Alexa peered over the top of her cards with her brown eyes focused on Tobias as if she was about to make him her next battle trophy.

"Too high for me." Danny folded.

"Where are Nia and Xander?" asked William. He put in sixty cubits.

"Probably in the frakking tool room or something," replied Alexa with a snort of derision as she matched William's bet. "Or is it frakking in the tool room?"

"It doesn't matter," said Tobias. "This game's over—Full colors!"

"Frakker." Alexa slammed her cards down.

"Got a light?" asked Tobias with a wide grin. William tossed over his lighter. Tobias pulled out a cigar and leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, but he had miscalculated his balance and fell backwards onto the floor. Everyone nearby broke out in roaring laughter, but Tobias took his fall with dignity. "Anyone up for another round then?"

Their replies were cut short by the blare of alarms.

"_Action stations. Actions stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill."_

-x-

William looked up into the sky and high above he could see flashes from thermobaric explosives meant to destroy or prevent pursuit as the rogue ships scrambled to leave. He still couldn't understand where it had all gone wrong.

It had started as a standard ship-to-ship engagement between _Cerberus_ and a rogue vessel called _Zopyros_. The large frigate normally wouldn't have stood a chance against _Cerberus_, but _Zopyros _had been outfitted with the best that money could buy—weaponry that had likely been smuggled out of Colonial anchorages and she had a compliment of Vipers all her own that had probably been hijacked fresh off the line from Scorpion Shipyards.

The Colonials pilots had had no choice but to scatter and pursue the rogue Vipers into Leonis' atmosphere. Somewhere in all that mess they had lost control of the situation and now at least one of his pilots was dead and he was slipping the edges of his vision started to fade the words, _no victory without sacrifice _echoed in his ears. Those words had been a favorite of the Colonial Fleet commanders at funerals during the Cylon War. Tom Zarek had used those words once too. And now so had Tobias Cain.

_To darkness all—_

-x-

In the dark was where William Adama woke from his nightmare. It was the third time he had woken from the same nightmare since _Cerberus' _SAR team had recovered him. The slowly intensifying ache in his shoulder and leg reminded him that it wasn't just a dream, no matter how much he wished it were. It took him a few seconds to orient himself, but he recognized the various shadows of the equipment in sickbay, except for one vaguely person-shaped shadow by the wall just off to his left. He squinted to make out who it was and automatically tensed when the shadow moved.

"Sir?" Her voice sounded softer than normal, but familiar.

"Alexa?" He heard a faint "yes sir." He did his best to ease himself up into a reclining position. "What—ah, fr—what are you doing here?"

"I uh—I was just keeping an eye on—Honestly, I don't know, sir. I—couldn't sleep." William's eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting and he could see her a bit more clearly. But he didn't need to see her to know that the Alexa that had been sitting watch over him tonight was not the Picon born and bred gung-ho militant that he knew. He could hear it in her hesitance and gentler tone; this Alexa was nothing more than a scared junior officer who was probably suffering from the same kind of nightmares he did and who had, just yesterday, lost not one, but two comrades. Nia's Viper had taken a missile to the right wing and fragmented over Leonis' upper atmosphere. No one knew if it had been friendly fire or not. _"I'm hit! Krypter! Krypter! Kryp—"_

"I'm not gonna die," he said. He tried to add that everything was going to be okay, but a resurgence of pain in his shoulder cut him short. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was good to be able to breathe. Even if it stung. At least that way he knew he was still alive.

"I know, sir." She didn't sound very convinced. To be honest, he wasn't either.

"I lost a lot of friends in the Cylon War and it doesn't get any easier, but—" William couldn't think of anything inspiring to say. "Well—it doesn't get any easier." _It gets so much harder. _"You just learn to live with it. Every day."

"What's going to happen to us all now?"

"I don't know."

* * *

AN: Again apologies on the long wait. Thanks for your patience and hope you wait around for the next part. -SVR


	12. Point of No Return

_17 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 47  
Location: Tauron – Orion City Cemetery_

He knelt down and his fingers brushed across the grooves engraved in the cold white marble.

_Tobias Cain  
My heart lies not here,__  
But rests forever in the sky.  
H9/21305 – X11/21336_

The sun was hot enough to scorch and the birds chirped faintly from their oak perch overhead, but William Adama didn't feel the burning heat on the back of his neck and uniform or hear the birds. _"I said abort! Get back here!" _What he felt was a dull ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his still healing injuries and what he heard were the echoes of the last moments of Tobias' life. _"There is no victory without sacrifice."_

"Dammit Tobias," he sighed. "You're too young to be—" He had to force down a rising knot of emotion. _I had it. I was in command. It was my responsibility, not yours._ _Didn't you remember what I told you? Do as I say and not as I do. _

William had been unable to make to the funeral that Tobias' family had had. Or rather, he had chosen not to go. The memorial onboard _Cerberus _had been heartbreaking enough. He knew that had he gone he wouldn't have been able to bear placing the folded Colonial flag into Tobias' mother's shaking hands or hear some priest speak about the better world of the afterlife and how the Lords of Kobol would watch over his lost pilots. _Because no one was watching over my pilots except me and I let them down…  
_

His thoughts wandered to the day over five years ago when he had graduated solo ops and began unit training. _"Tobias 'Achilles' Cain at your service, sir." _Five years was how long Major Farro had given half of them to live. They had kept each other alive through their training, through the S.F.M., through all of it and he hadn't lost a single one of them under his command. Notone. And they had celebrated the anniversary of their fifth year with rounds of drinks and badly sung songs. _"Viper pilots flyin' high, Viper pilots never die…"_ They thought they had beaten Farro's odds.

Then eight months later the day came when they wouldn't be flying together anymore.

-xxx-

Tobias and Nia were dead.

"_Today we are charged with the solemn duty of returning the souls of our own to the universe from which the Lords of Kobol brought them to us. Senior Lieutenant Tobias Cain and Lieutenant Nia Tikaru were pilots of the highest caliber who willingly gave their lives in service to Colonies. There can be no greater honor that we may bestow upon them than to strive always to uphold and protect the freedom and sovereignty of the Colonies. In this way__,__ their sacrifice will not be in vain. So say we all." _

Xander was the first to leave. The order had come down that he was to be mustered out of the Fleet.

"_Didn't anyone tell that frakwit evaluating psychologist that Xander was like that before? Silence does not equal traumatic stress. This is complete bullshit." _

A week later, Danny had been the next to empty out his duty locker.

"_I've been transferred to _Atlantia_… they're basing me out of that dirtball, Aerelon." _

A month after that Alexa had been next, but only after she unceremoniously tore her transfer orders in half and had to be taken off _Cerberus_ by the Military Police to undergo court martial for insubordination.

"_Frak _Hyperion!_ I am _not_ flying with that frakwit Marcus." _

William had spent over two months recovering from his broken leg and departed last.

"_I'm sorry Captain Adama, you have been declared unfit to endure the rigors of flying in the Special Operations Division. Your flight status for normal operations will be assessed pending reassignment." _

Other pilots had already been moved into the vacated bunks in their old quarters, but when William cleaned out his locker, he was alone. His flight suit and helmet, fatigues and personal effects all fit neatly into his duffel bag. He took down the pictures of his wife and sons and comrades. The last thing he removed was his father's lighter from its spot on the top shelf. Someone had saved it from the floor of the rec room and replaced it in his locker for him. He had left it on that shelf throughout his recovery, buried under his flight suit, because the sight of it reminded him of his nagging doubt. _If only it hadn't gotten left behind that day… _If only.

-xxx-

"It's not over yet," said William while he pulled out a picture that he had had tucked in his uniform. "Xander's going to do some investigating for us, try and track down _Zopyros'_ captain. We're going to stop that ship. Or die trying."

The picture was a copy of the one Tobias had taken on their last day of unit training. He set it on the grass in front of Tobias' headstone and pinned it to the ground with a set of senior pilot wings. Adama had already done the same at Nia's grave on Scorpia earlier that day. He got to his feet, offered a last salute, and left to catch a transport to Caprica.

Now that he was recovered enough to travel, he had a meeting with the President of the Colonies. He dared not be late. Then he could finally go home, hug his sons, kiss his wife and be thankful that he was alive.

-xxx-

"Please, Captain Adama, have a seat." President Kearney stood up from behind his paper strewn desk, at least William hoped there was a desk beneath all the clutter, and gestured toward the chair on his right.

"Actually, if you don't mind sir, I haven't been on my feet without help in the last couple months so I'd prefer to stand." The president nodded his approval, shook William's hand and chose to lean back against the front of his desk instead of return to the modest leather chair that matched well with the rest of his notably austere office.

Kearney had cropped gray hair and he had a way about him that suggested he didn't belong in a suit, but in a Colonial uniform. However, as the mess on his desk and lack of insignia silently attested, the president was not former military. He was instead someone who had wanted to serve, but had been unable to. Adama still remembered Kearney having to defend his patriotism in the presidential debates last year, but a congenital heart condition was certainly a better reason for not serving than some of the others William had heard.

"Admiral Edington briefed me on the Leonis incident and I was sorry to hear about what happened to your team." Kearney looked back over his shoulder to locate something on his desk. After shuffling a few things out of the way, he had retrieved a black, velvet covered box. "I know that promotions and commendations aren't any comfort, but I wanted to give this to you personally." He held out the box for William. "Congratulations Major Adama."

"Thank you mister President." William took the box and opened it. A set of gold major's pins stared up at him. _A shame they came at such a high cost. _

"Besides a Commendation of Valor if there's anything I can do for you don't hesitate to ask," continued Kearney. "Being President allows me to get away with being generous."

William suddenly felt like perhaps he needed that chair after all. His mind was happy to supply him with plenty of things that he wanted, but there was one promise he had made years ago that he had yet to keep.

"I have a friend in the Merchant Fleet," said William with marked reluctance. _What's the price going to be for this favor? _"He's a former captain, Saul Tigh. I've been hoping to get him reinstated for a few years now…" Kearney didn't hesitate.

"Not a problem." The president went around the side of his desk and unburied his intercom. "Miss Lawrence, could you please contact the Merchant Fleet registry and find a Saul Tigh, he's to be reinstated to Colonial Fleet at his former rank of captain, compliments of Major Adama. Thank you." Kearney looked up from the intercom. "Anything else Major?"

"No, sir. Thank you sir." Kearney smiled.

"One last thing before you go, Major Adama. I would say it's a fair assumption to make that you're a man who's very loyal to his friends." He paused to adjust his tie. "I'm going to let you in on a little information that might help you and your friends on a mission that I'm sure is already being planned." Kearney's smile had faded and his chiseled jaw clenched periodically. "The public has been told that the cause of the incident on Troy is unknown, but it was _Zopyros_. I lost friends on Troy and you've lost friends to _Zopyros _too so you'll understand my sentiment. The Division wants to conduct an op to capture that ship and I have no choice, but to let them, politics. But I don't want it just captured, I want it torn to pieces Major and I want her captain's head."

There was the price of the president's favor, but it was one William was more than willing to pay.

"I'd be happy to see to it, sir."

"Good. I imagine you're eager to get home and see your family so I won't delay you any longer." Kearney's smile had returned and he reached out to shake William's hand. "Good luck Major."

"Thank you sir." William saluted Kearney before he left the President's Office. He walked through the heavy black doors and glanced down at the box in his hand with his major's pins. He didn't even look up when he accidentally bumped into someone in the narrow hallway on his way back to reception area. He felt like he had sold a piece of his soul, but he had already crossed the point of no return as far as _Zopyros_ was concerned. At least he was one step closer to making good on his words to Saul._ "Gimme a couple of years. I'll have some pull. You watch me. I'll have my own battlestar one day." _

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you all come back for the next couple of parts. I'm very excited for what's coming.


	13. If Only

_17 Years before cylon attack  
Laura Roslin age 35  
Location: Caprica – __Caprica City Riverwalk Residential Complex_

A stream of deep violet paint flowed across the canvas with each sweep of the bristles. _"I'm sorry." _The wooden handle of the brush pressed against her fingers as she drew it across the canvas again. _"She's not responding to the diloxin anymore."_ Right to left, left to right, until bands of violet covered the canvas. _"How long?" _A brief slosh of water could be heard above the piano music in the background. _"Two months, maybe three, at the outside." _

Peacock blue was loaded onto the clean brush and spread in an arc down the left half of the canvas, a pause for more paint, then another arc on the right half so that they met in the middle. _"I'm so sorry…" _More blue went inside the boundaries, up and down, back and forth ever closer the edge. _"I have to go." _Then again on the other side, up and down, tighter and tighter, gathering intensity with every pull of the brush.

Then thoughts fell aside, one by one, like drops of water. All that was left was the aroma of the oil paints and turpentine, the interplay of light and shadow, the shifting pressure and rhythm. And by degrees the image was refined. The shades grew darker, plunging into troughs. The hues grew brighter, pulling out the crests. Two ripples on their way to colliding were taking shape. Life was breathed into the color with every stroke—

_FRAK._

Laura's concentration shattered once she realized that someone was knocking on the door to her apartment. She sighed, put down her brush and strode across the room with her mind still somewhere between immersion in the painting and awareness of reality. She glanced through the peephole before opening the door and recognized the distorted form of Richard Adar. She opened the door.

"Mister Governor Elect, what brings you here?" she asked. After two rounds of primaries and a general election spread out over three years, today he had finally been elected Governor of Caprica.

"You weren't at the party," he said. "I was worried." His gaze dropped momentarily to take in the rest of her appearance. _I probably look like a disaster, all covered in paint._

"Everything is fine." He didn't appear convinced. She brushed a few strands of her hair out of the way. "I just didn't feel like celebrating with so many people." He leaned against the frame of the door and smiled in an attempt to be charming.

"Are you going to make me stand in the hall?" Laura apologized and invited him in. He followed her and hesitated awkwardly at the threshold to the living room. He poked his head in to assess the area before choosing where to go. He had never been in her apartment before.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered. He opted for a glass of Ambrosia. Thankfully, he didn't stop to examine her unfinished painting, but had wandered over to the image of the Government Plaza that hung above her couch while she went in the kitchen.

"Aaron Thrace's 'Valley of Darkness', interesting piece," he called, noting the piano music. She told him that it was one of her favorites and paused to turn it down on her way to deliver Adar his drink. "So you paint. And it looks like I interrupted work in progress," he said with a gesture toward the canvas on her easel. "My apologies." She told him it was fine and that she was used to interruptions. He took a sip of Ambrosia and looked up at the Plaza painting again. "I must have walked by this spot a thousand times, but I don't think I've ever seen it quite like this. The detail is just… amazing. Is there anything you're not good at?"

"Math," she said flatly as she stood beside him with a glass of red wine in her hand. His hazel eyes caught hers in sidelong glance.

"I don't believe it for a second." An unconscious grin spread across his features that reminded her of how candid he used to be with his reactions to people and how particularly inept he had been at restraining his indignation when she had met with him to discuss his school board proposal. Somewhere, between balancing his duties as mayor and his campaign for governor, that aspect of his honest nature had been buried. It resurfaced only in glimpses.

"You caught me," she sighed. "But I'm not just good at everything, I'm fantastic," she said with mock haughtiness and turned to sit down on the couch. He hesitated a moment and then sat down beside her at a close, but comfortable distance. "So, mister Governor, you didn't come here just to discuss my varied talents, why aren't you out getting hopelessly drunk with Wally?" His effortless good humor faded into an affected smile. The politician in him had taken over again.

"To be honest, I had to escape from that party because I didn't feel like I deserved all the accolades." He leaned back a bit into the cushions and stretched his free arm across the back of the couch, finally relaxed. "It wasn't any fun without you there. I wanted to thank you for keeping me from behaving uncivilized in front the press. That alone almost single-handedly saved my campaign. The party should have been for you and you know it, even if you keep letting other people take the credit." He ran his thumb down the side of his glass. "That, and I am a bit worried." He edged a bit nearer and watched her intently while he spoke.

"Something's wrong," he sighed. "You've been distracted at work, unfocused. I know you value your privacy and I haven't pressed, but—we're friends, whatever's been happening, let me help." She took an extra long swallow of her drink so that she could think of an answer, but one didn't come. Instead, she was suddenly very aware of just how close he was sitting, the way his voice had softened into a slightly lower tone and the concern in his expression that gave way to poorly concealed disappointment when she told him that there wasn't anything he could do.

"Alright." He finished his Ambrosia and set it down on the end table to his left. He got up to leave, but he was only halfway to his feet before he changed his mind. "No. It's not alright." He had returned to his place on the couch. "Laura—the last three years I've kept my distance and I understand there are—boundaries. I wouldn't dream of crossing them, but it's not just me you keep at arm's length, it's everyone." He made a visible effort to continue. "I know things are…complicated, but don't push me away. You can't push everyone away forever. Tell me what's going on."

She wanted to tell him that it hadn't always been that way, but even before her mother's diagnosis she had been a bit guarded when it came to relationships, be it friends or otherwise. For awhile nothing had really changed, then her mother's condition had started to require more and more of her attention and by degrees it just became easier to be alone. But she couldn't tell him that. It sounded too much like cowardice, like being afraid of getting hurt, a fear that eased considerably if she had no one to lose.

"I'm sorry Richard," she said. _You have no idea how hard this is… _ "There's nothing anyone can do right now. It will resolve itself." _In two or three months. _"And you won't have to worry. I'll be fine." His jaw clenched.

"See you at work tomorrow?" was all he managed. She nodded.

He leaned forward to kiss her good bye on the cheek in that way common to politicians and celebrities, except instead of just a quick, almost careless, sign of affection somewhere along the way it turned into a real kiss. Apparently, his job was not the only thing that he was passionate about. For the briefest moment she let her justifications fall away and felt the firm press of his lips, the slight tingle that ran down her spine and the warmth of his hand on her cheek. _Don't stop._But as soon as he realized what he was doing he did stop.

His gaze dropped to somewhere on the carpet and his ears had turned bright red. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said. "I apologize." If he hadn't looked so terribly uncomfortable Laura knew that she probably would have kissed him again and then—

"I'll let you get back to your painting," he mumbled and got up. He left before she could form an intelligent response.

After she heard the door close behind him, she went and turned the piano music back up. Then she returned to her spot on the couch and tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had kissed her. That part she remembered quite clearly. So clearly, that she could still feel the phantom sensation of heat and pressure where his lips had met hers…

_Oh snap out of it, he's engaged for frak's sake. _She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the couch. _Frak. That was a poor choice of words. _Laura forced aside a particularly inappropriate thought that had come to mind. _Very, _very_ poor choice of words._ She determinedly reminded herself again that Adar was going to be married in a couple of months.

Even though it was strictly a political deal meant to further his eventual bid for the presidency, she knew that he wasn't about to infringe upon that arrangement. He couldn't even handle a little unearned praise, or a simple kiss, she couldn't imagine how badly he'd cope with an affair. _Don't imagine—You have something to do—a painting, you have a painting to finish. _

But she didn't finish her painting. Instead, she thought about how nice it would be, just once, to do something impulsive, something selfish and to hell with the consequences. And she thought about how well she had come to know Richard Adar over the last three years. He wasn't always as scrupulous as he seemed to be. If he had to compromise his integrity in order to benefit something or someone he cared about he wasn't above doing it. Granted he had limits on how far he was willing to go, but those limits could be pushed a surprisingly great distance before they were broken. _If only._

If only he was a little more persistent and a little less moral. If only she hadn't rejected him. If only days and weeks hadn't passed without comment regarding that kiss until it was nearly forgotten. Then maybe she wouldn't have had to endure being alone while watching her mother's condition deteriorate. And maybe he wouldn't have gone through with the marriage after all. Then maybe, when she received a phone call from Doctor Gallagher two months later, just maybe, everything would have been different.

"_I think you should start making arrangements and come down to the hospital. It's almost time."_

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading. Reviews would be much appreciated. There might be a significant delay until the next post since I'll short be transitioning back to college, but the upcoming material will most definitely be worth the wait. And if it isn't you can throw virtual rotten tomatoes at me. :) 


	14. Compromises

_17 Years before cylon attack__  
Laura Roslin age 35  
Location: Caprica – __Seacade Memorial Cemetery _

It felt like a dream, but it wasn't.

"…For Judith Roslin the burdens of this life were heavy, but those burdens have been taken into the hands of the Lords of Kobol…"

The voice of the priest sounded distant to Laura and gusts of bracing wind periodically drowned out the words altogether. _"Everything's going to be okay mom. I'll be fine." _

"…And now we commit her body to the ground from which we were all made…"

The grass that blanketed the hilltop where she stood was as green as it had been the last time she was here, almost twenty years ago, at the burial service for her father and sisters. _"Don't be afraid. I'm sure dad's there, waiting for you." _

"…Secure in the knowledge that she has been reunited with those who have gone before her, in a better world…"

This time, instead of sorrow and tears what she felt was relief. It came upon her like a sudden reduction of pressure, a lightening of the air in her lungs. No more Dr. Gallagher. No more hospital visits. No more phone calls every few days. No more. Twenty years of holding back from living a full life was enough. Now she was free. What had begun with a devastating car accident was finished and finally laid to rest. _"It's okay. Everything will be fine…" _

"So say we all."

It was over.

-xxx-

"Richard?" Laura stood in the doorway of her apartment at a quarter to eleven while Adar made a fumbling attempt to fix the collar on his shirt and correct his disheveled appearance.

"I uh… I think, I, made a mistake," he mumbled. Laura noticed that he was speaking a little too deliberately and he seemed, off, somehow.

"Are you drunk?"

"She…we had a fight. I made a mistake—she kicked me out…" He went to lean against the door frame, but miscalculated and stumbled forward. She reached out to catch him, but at the last instant he managed to brace himself on the other side of the frame.

Laura sighed and helped him inside before he managed to hurt himself. He pressed against her for support until he found his balance.

"I'm, okay…" He nearly tripped again as she guided him to the couch where he promptly collapsed. "I'm fi—sorry. I didn't know what else—I, ruined everything…" He muttered a few more incomprehensible things and passed out while still trying to explain. She checked to make sure he was breathing fine and adjusted his position on the couch so that he wouldn't fall over onto the floor. She decided to give him a chance to sleep some of it off and in the mean time she cleaned and put away her paint supplies. _At this rate I'll never finish that painting._

_-_xxx_-_

It was just past midnight when she decided it was time to wake Adar. She had only left the lamp at the foot of the couch on, but coupled with the faint rays of city glow that filtered through the window blinds it was just enough light to see clearly.

She glanced down at his sleeping form. A deep frown had altered the strong lines of his face and while anyone else as charismatic and intense as he was would have seemed diminished by that troubled expression, he only seemed all the more handsome for it. And as much as she was tempted to leave him alone and just watch him sleep for a few minutes more, she wanted to make sure he was all right. She also wasn't about to let him spend the night without first knowing exactly what had happened.

"Richard…" Laura knelt down next to the couch and roused him gently. He woke with surprising ease. He must have been more tired and stressed than intoxicated. He looked over at her with a helpless grin. _He's still drunk enough._

"Richard, what happened?" she asked.

He rolled over onto his back, the grin had vanished and he held one arm over his eyes to hide his face.

"Work was hell," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I had, a couple of drinks, before I went home—few more after…" He let his arm drop with a suppressed groan. "I don't remember what I—She said she was, going to, divorce me—My campaign…it will be—over. It won't matter anymore." Richard tried to sit up. She told him to stay down and relax.

"I'll be right back," she said and was about to go get him a glass of water, but he reached out and caught her by the hand. She paused. The heat of his palm against her fingers made her flush and she was reminded of the last time he had been in her apartment, of his lips against hers... She tried to push the memory and her reaction to it away, but instead she obeyed the slight tug of his hand and sat down on the edge of the couch cushion.

"Laura. I really, made a mistake."

There was a change in the tone of his voice this time that had altered meaning of his words, but before she could respond any other way the ever-responsible part of her took over, tried to make it seem as if she was ignorant of what he was trying to say.

"I'm sure that tomorrow this will all blow over and—"

"That's not what I meant." She sighed. _I know._

She finally looked over at him and was tempted, so very tempted, to take advantage of the opportunity he had presented to her. And she knew this was one of those moments where she had a choice, to do what she always did, withdraw, push him away, play it safe, and leave herself wondering what could have been… A few days ago she would have done just that, without any hesitation. But after the funeral her circumstances had changed and this time she hesitated. There was nothing to be gained anymore by keeping her distance. _Only regrets for chances not taken, and opportunities wasted. _

She decided that this time she was done with sacrificing in the name of responsibility.

Laura shifted her weight, leaned down and kissed him. It was foolish, thoughtless and selfish, but she didn't care. Her heart was already racing, she could feel the sudden rise and fall of his chest against hers, the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his dress shirt…but within moments the rush of arousal was contaminated by the faint taste of whiskey and zivania.

"I shouldn't," she breathed. _Tell me no. _

He pressed her closer, firmly enough that there was no mistaking his response. He wasn't going to say no.

In fact she didn't even hear the words he spoke next; she was too busy readjusting her position so that she straddled him. In the midst of another kiss, she slipped his ring off his finger and then transferred her attention to the buttons of her blouse.

She wasn't going to give herself another chance to hesitate.

If it was a mistake then she was fine with that. She'd made so many others by holding back when she should have pressed ahead what difference would it make?

-xxx-

Richard busied himself with collecting various sheets of paper that he'd scattered across the table during the course of his weekly cabinet meeting while everyone filed out of the spacious conference room. Laura stayed behind and kept her distance near the opposite end of the table. She thought that he had done remarkably well throughout the meeting, considering he was probably still feeling the splitting headache he had woken up to this morning.

He looked up from his overly neat stack of papers and glanced back at the open doorway to be sure they were alone before he said anything.

"We didn't really get the chance to talk earlier," he began. She noticed him run his thumb across his wedding band.

"We don't have to talk about it," she offered. In fact, she didn't particularly want to talk about it. It wasn't that she regretted what had happened or anything like that. She just didn't feel a particular need to discuss why she had changed her mind or what they were going to do now. As far as she was concerned, no one had to know and nothing had to come of it, simple as that.

"It's a curious thing," he said without looking at her. There was a strange sort of calm about him while he spoke. "I don't feel any regret… I should. I should be panicking or berating myself for being a reckless fool but—This," he slid his ring off his left hand and held it up as if inspecting it for flaws, "This was the first compromise and I've made a few more since." His eyes finally focused on her. "Now I find myself wondering how many more compromises I'm going to make in order to get I want."

The expression on his face told her that _as many as it takes _was the answer. It was the first thought that came to her mind, but she didn't tell him that.

"We're going to be late," she said.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Hm." He nodded, replaced his ring on his hand and tucked his papers into his briefcase. She closed the space between them and he motioned for her to precede him through the door.

The walk from the Governor's to the President's Office amounted to nothing more than taking an elevator up one floor and walking down a short corridor to the reception area, but in that short span of time Laura found her concentration was slipping. The sound of his voice while they made innocuous small talk in the elevator tugged at her memory of the way he had whispered her name, the moisture and warmth of his breath on her neck, the sensation of his mouth on her skin… _"Laura."_

"Laura?"

She nearly started, but managed to cover it up with a slow turn of her head in Richard's direction.

"Hmm?"

He raised an eyebrow. Then he cleared his throat, stiffened his posture, and chose to stare directly ahead instead of at her.

"Nothing." Apparently, he couldn't resist one last sidelong glance and his self control faltered in the form of a subdued, conspiratorial grin.

She gave him a once over and tried to appear unimpressed. _You weren't_ that_ good. _She sighed. _But good enough… _

When the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the lobby, they had restored their veneer of professional indifference. Even so, the slightest brush of his hand against her back was enough to distract her again while he traded formalities with the secretary and guided her toward the narrow hall to the President's Office. She was reminded of how his fingers had haltingly traced the contours of her body and—

Laura was jarred back into the present reality when someone bumped into her. She barely heard his fleeting apology and looked back only to see the retreating uniform of a Colonial soldier who appeared to be distracted by something his hand and had a slight limp.

"Are you alright?" She turned back to Richard and nodded. "Damn grunts, they should watch where they're going."

"I'm fine," she insisted in order to quell his indignation. _Besides, I should have been thinking about our proposal to improve Caprica's CEA scores instead of—Concentrate—you have a job to do now. _

Laura managed to keep her focus throughout the conference with President Kearney and she spent the rest of the day away from Richard. She had a budget meeting with Wally over lunch and then finally sat down in her small office to do some paperwork, but she kept nodding off at her desk. It had been a long time since she had been up so late when she had work in the morning and it didn't help that she had kept waking up during the night because she wasn't used to having someone sleeping next to her. She gave up on the paperwork, indulged in a nap instead and ended up late for a conference with several representatives from the Federal Education Union.

By the time she got home that evening she just wanted to relax, finally work on her painting, perhaps start the mystery novel that she had picked up on the way home and cook a decent dinner for herself. But unfortunately things did not quite go as she planned.

Dinner had come first and had been nearly burned, she tried to read for a while, but she was unable lose herself in the words of the story and when she tried to make headway with the painting she couldn't get into any kind of rhythm.

She stared at the canvas for so long that a drop of paint eventually fell from the end of her brush onto the sheet that protected the floor. After twenty minutes she realized this painting would probably never consent to be finished, it had been stubborn from the beginning. So she changed brushes, loaded the new one with thick white paint and drew it across the top of the canvas. With every stroke, the image of the water ripples was obscured and after a second coat of white, she had erased it completely.

When she was finished she regarded the blank canvas with a sigh and put away her painting supplies. _Maybe I'll be able to finish the next one. Time for bed._

* * *

AN: Apologies for the extreme delay on this part. It was unusually difficult to write and college has been keeping me busy. The next section shouldn't take nearly so long...I hope. Thanks everyone for your patience, reviews are welcome and special thanks goes to one my friends (you know who you are) for letting me shamelessly borrow ideas.


	15. It Could Have Been A Lot Worse

_17 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 48  
Location: Aquaria Regional Space Extreme Range – Colonial Raptor 312 _

"Drone launched." William powered down the Raptor and released the straps that held him in the pilot's seat. He squeezed his way into the rear of the craft, bent down to pick up the gear that had been set aside for him, and pulled a combat vest on over his flight suit. The heavy weight of it on his shoulders brought on a sense of finality, succeed or fail, there would be no going back from the course he had chosen. He picked up an SA-80 assault rifle and gave the rest of his reassembled team a quick once over.

Danny sat in the back of the Raptor with his arms resting across his knees and he rolled his lucky cubit between his fingers. He was in full marine gear over his flight suit. William couldn't see his expression, but he knew it was as solemn as everyone else's.

Alexa had taken the ECO position. She was absorbed in the dradis screens in front of her so intensely that it looked like she was trying to will their target into existence. She had on the lightest combat vest that offered any protection, but the mobility she gained from the lighter gear would be negated by the full pack of G-4 at her feet.

Saul was the copilot for this mission and he was outfitted similarly to Danny. He didn't seem particularly anxious, which was expected, more importantly he was sober and that was all that really counted in his case.

"Now we wait," said William. Fully geared up and ready, he returned to the pilot's seat.

-x-

"To the Colonial Fleet." There was the clink of glasses and Saul bolted down his drink without delay. William only sipped at his and kept half of his attention on the other patrons of Morrigan's. The bar was the perfect place for what William had in mind and their table in the back corner was nice and secluded. The dull roar of everyone's voices would drown out any stray sound from their table. The low light and smoky atmosphere kept anyone from Spec Ops' Internal Security Division who might be watching from seeing too much.

"I'll admit," said Saul, "I never thought you'd do it. But look at us now, back in the Fleet, back in Vipers and posted to _Atlantia_, can't get much better than that." He reached for the whiskey bottle and poured himself another glass.

"Nope, can't get much better." Their assignment to _Atlantia_ had been another of President Kearney's favors, but William didn't tell his friend that, nor had he mentioned specifically how he'd gotten enough pull to get Tigh reinstated in the first place. He had said only that a few people had owed him favors.

"Shame I'll be flying Raptors for the most part now," sighed William.

"Piss off Commander Rhyder that much did you?"

"Had a bad landing, busted myself up pretty good." William finished off his drink while Saul worked on his third. "Raptors were the only way for me to stay in the service and keep flying."

"Frak. I'm not taking orders from a CAG that flies Raptors," he said into his glass.

"You'll take orders from me and you'll frakking like it," replied William. A smile stretched across Saul's face that reached the corners of his eyes.

"Aye, sir."

They chuckled and downed another drink apiece, but William's good humor subsided quickly. When his friend went to pour himself yet another drink, William reached over and stopped him.

"Saul, I have to ask you for a favor." He hesitated and scanned the crowd; no one was paying any attention to them. "I want your help on a mission, off log. There's a rogue ship. I lost two of my pilots to it."

"And you wanna take the bastards out, is that it?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm in."

"It's gonna be dangerous."

"Always is, Bill." Saul pounded back another drink. "I'm in just the same."

-x-

William adjusted his position in his seat in an attempt to get comfortable. There was a flash of pain in his right leg that reminded him of the weeks he had spent relearning how to walk after the cast had come off. He shifted position again and felt the bottom of his combat vest press into his thigh. It momentarily brushed against the lighter in the pocket of his flight suit. _Going to need all the luck we can get this time._

He absently tried to feel his wedding band through the glove of his left hand, but then he remembered that it wasn't there anymore.

-x-

When William looked at the clock last it had been 0330. Over the course of the night he had consulted the clock on the wall across from the couch probably a dozen times and every half hour or so he settled back into the leather cushions of the couch and closed his eyes, but the house was too quiet. There were no echoes of people passing by in corridors outside, no hum and vibration of ship's engines to distract and lull him to sleep. Alone, in the dark, he felt like he was falling. When he tried to shake the feeling off and rolled over onto his side a twinge of discomfort in his shoulder brought back the memory of the crash, the alarm, the roaring wind, hard dirt, and a suffocating shortness of breath—

William sat up. He ran his hand over the left side of his chest. He couldn't feel it through the fabric of his shirt, but he knew the thin scar on his shoulder was there, a reminder of confusion and pain and grief. _"There is no victory without sacrifice." _

A few seconds later and he still couldn't quite breathe. The air felt heavy in his lungs. It was laden down with accusations and denials and tension from the argument he'd had with Carolanne earlier in the evening.

You miss everything she'd said. Ever since the _Zopyros_ and the crash it was more than the day to day trivialities. It was her birthday. He had forgotten it. Then Lee's Pyramid tryouts. He had been at Morrigan's with Saul. Then it was their tenth anniversary. Rioting on Aerelon had called him back to _Atlantia_. He didn't make it back home in time. He couldn't remember the rest of the fight. It was all just a rehashing of everything they had argued over for the past ten years, nothing new. Nothing new except that this time when he demanded to know what she wanted from him she told him; I want a divorce.

Those words had hit him like a slap in the face. He had simply turned away and walked out, went outside for a walk and tried make sense of it. He couldn't. By the time he got back Carolanne had put the boys to bed and had gone to bed herself. He had resigned himself to the couch.

Carolanne's demand still echoed in his ears. _"I want a divorce." _

William stood up and then headed for the bedroom. He walked down the narrow hallway, past his sons' rooms and stopped outside the bedroom door. He eased the door open and slipped inside. Carolanne was asleep in the middle of the bed, cocooned in the blankets, oblivious to everything around her. At least these days he could navigate better.

He strode past the end of the bed to the closet. He packed his uniform and a few personal items away with quiet efficiency; anything he left behind could be dealt with later. With the duffel bag slung over his shoulder he headed for the door, but then, with his hand on the doorknob, William glanced back over his shoulder. He wanted to kiss her good bye. He wanted to tell her that he just didn't want to fight anymore. But he knew he couldn't do that. She would wake up. She would insist that she hadn't meant what she said, he would say he was sorry and in a couple of weeks, or a month, or six months, they'd do it all over again. If he didn't leave now, then he'd leave next year or the year after that.

Instead of kissing her good bye William took off his ring and left it on the corner of the night table. Then he left.

-x-

"Dradis contact! CBDR, bearing zero nine seven, carom two seven one." William straightened up in his seat and consulted his dradis readout. "Signatures match, it's _Zopyros_," confirmed Alexa.

William's hands hovered over the flight controls. Hopefully the decoy drone would keep the _Zopyros _from detecting the Raptor just long enough. He tore his eyes away from the screen as the stars outside the canopy were blotted out and the bow of the _Zopyros'_ hull slid overhead. There was a flash from one of the ships' guns and the decoy was gone, but it didn't matter, their inside intel had been good, _Zopyros_ had appeared as scheduled and she'd taken the bait.

William powered up just long enough to fire the RCS thrusters and executed a roll to line up with the lower port side of _Zopyros' _hull. He brought the Raptor in near one of the airlocks. Within seconds the small vehicle had latched onto the larger frigate like a parasite.

"We have soft seal," said William. "Break out the torch." Everyone that was strapped in unsecured themselves and double checked their gear while Danny unsealed the floor hatch and went to work.

-x-

"…Another month before we can all get leave, but we should be ready by then if the rest of the team comes through," said William. He scanned the crowd of the Morrigan's for a familiar face, but he couldn't see much of anything through the smoke of cheap Foliole cigars that hung in the air and erased anyone from view that wasn't within a few meters.

"That's a big if," Saul replied. He knocked back a glass of Caprican Silver and poured himself another.

"They'll come through," said Danny. He shuffled a deck of Triad cards in his hands. Then he reshuffled them and kept doing so while they waited.

William had to admit that the three of them being stationed on _Atlantia _carried a number of advantages, including coinciding leave that no one would think was particularly unusual. Barring major complications between now and another month or so, there was a chance that they could actually pull this mission off and no one in the Spec Ops division would know they were behind it. If complications did arise, if they were discovered to be conducting rogue operations, they'd be immediately stripped of their rank, anyone who knew them would be subject to interrogation, and if they weren't summarily executed they would be left to rot in a penal colony. _Knowing our luck it would be some hole on Sagittaron and we'd be dead inside of a week anyway. _

He kept an eye on the crowd and for a while there were only the usual patrons, freighter crewmembers at the tables playing Triad, Merchant Fleet deckhands whose faces were marred by perpetual masks of grime gathered around the tables, Tylium miners that spent their time at the bar coughing in between rounds of drinks. Then he saw her; Alexa, dressed in green fatigue pants and a black t-shirt with her dark hair in a short ponytail. She drifted toward the bar, just on the edge of their field of view.

Danny got up from his chair and headed toward her while she was in the middle of ordering a drink. When she saw him, Alexa smiled and hugged him and they chatted, all to give the impression that they were merely two friends who hadn't seen each other in years. William smiled as he watched them. It was a shame that she was only acting affable. William knew that Danny wasn't. The lieutenant had genuinely missed her. _I suppose I do too. _

After a few minutes, Danny led her to the table where William and Saul waited.

"Fancy running into you all here, sir," she said. She set down her glass of Virgon Vodka Red and took the vacant seat across from Saul. William smiled and nodded.

"Quite the coincidence," he replied. As soon as everyone had settled in William examined the room once more and they proceeded in their planning session.

"Our Shadow wasn't able to get us any security codes," Alexa began. "They change them every few days, but we have this…" Alexa retrieved a deck of Triad cards from her pocket and laid several of them out in the center of the table. She shifted a few of them around and then lined them up in a large octagon. Individually the color markings that traced the edges of the cards were all wrong, but together it amounted to a ship's schematic.

"Clever bastard," mumbled Tigh.

"Yeah," replied William. _It helps to have an inside man. _

William examined the layout while the rest of them posited strategies on how to destroy the ship. The CIC was in the center of the frigate as expected, access to the magazines and engine room would be near impossible. The ship's external defenses would make successful delivery of any ship-to-ship nuclear missile to the engines unlikely, even if they could get close enough without a radiological alarm going off. _Zopyros _had stood up to a battlestar-of-the-line and they couldn't get access to a nuke anyway, the most Adama would be able to muster off log would be a Raptor and some combat gear.

"Aux DC," interrupted William. "We can cut through, vent as much as we can, at least everything up to frame thirty seven. Once we have the core, it's all ours. I can get the equipment. We just need a contact point."

"I can relay a request," said Alexa.

"I hate to be the pessimist here," said Tigh, "but you're still talking about fighting through at least two, maybe three chokepoints, against a crew of a few hundred or more. You're pilots, not Marines."

"We can handle it," replied William. He took Danny's deck of cards from him and pulled out a pen. He marked the edges of several and altered a few of the symbols in the centers. It amounted to a request for mission status and a rendezvous point approximately a month from the present. He traded decks with Alexa. "We're going. First chance we get."

Alexa and Danny both nodded. Saul didn't seem as sure.

"What?" asked William.

"Bill, this isn't just dangerous, you're talking suicide mission—"

"Our captain says go, we go." Alexa glared at Saul. "He says this is the plan then we execute the plan."

"It's major now," corrected Danny. "But, in any case, we're in it to the end." Their shared expressions said it better than words ever could. They were prepared to follow William, wherever he led them, even if it was to their deaths. Alexa looked to him and he acknowledged her with a slight nod. _No going back now. _She got up from the table and within seconds she had disappeared into the smoke haze. _I hope this isn't a mistake. _

Saul raised an eyebrow and looked over at his friend.

"Just what is it about you that turns the people who follow you into suicidal maniacs?" he asked with a hint of a smile.

William poured himself a glass of Saul's rum and drank it down.

"Just lucky I guess."

-x-

Danny set aside his cutting torch and waited for the glowing metal to cool.

"We're through," he said. He pulled out a final section of hull plating and stepped aside.

"We don't stop moving, we get to our target, we take over and we get out of this alive," said Adama. He glanced over at Saul. "We all get out of this alive."

William climbed through the hole and the layers of hull plating. The freshest of the cut edges were still warm through his gloves. He tried to make as little sound as possible when he crawled out onto the deck. He brought up his rifle immediately and scanned both sides of the corridor. They were narrower than on a battlestar and not as well lit, most of the lights were broken or flickering, but it was clear of personnel. The rest of his team made it onto the ship within seconds.

His heart strained against the inside of his chest. The only thing he could hear in the confines of his helmet was his rapid breathing and that of his team. They followed him down the corridor toward the aft section of the _Zopyros._ In the flickering light he thought he saw movement at one of the corridor junctions. William motioned for them to pick up the pace. No sooner had they crossed the junction than the ship-wide alarm sounded.

"Time to run," snapped Adama. They gave up all attempts at stealth and pressed forward. From that point on everything was a blur. He swept his rifle across his line of sight with every change of cover, every junction passed, every stretch of corridor that they made it through. Another ten meters and they encountered the first signs of resistance.

The crew was unprotected, just dressed in green fatigues and carrying sidearms. William sighted one of them and his finger squeezed the trigger before the crewman could bring his sidearm to bear. There was a flash and a burst of sound from his rifle. Training took over then and his responses were as quick as his reflexes allowed.

Use support beams for partial cover.  
Aim for the chest.  
Fire in bursts.  
Advance.  
Suppressive fire.  
Cover the left flank.  
Never stop moving.  
Advance.  
Establish crossfire.  
Shoot to kill.  
Cover the rear.  
Advance.

A sealed hatch stalled them. Alexa scrambled to set a G-4 charge set while the rest of them defended the position. Marine units had finally responded. They were wasting bullets to keep them at bay.

"Hurry it up godsdammit!"

"They're gonna pin us down! Come on!"

William felt a sharp pain on the left side of his torso. His combat vest had stopped a bullet from tearing through him. He glanced over to Saul's position beside him in the corridor. He'd been hit twice already, both shots to the center of his vest. They had to be more careful, one hole in their suits and they'd never make it through the vented corridors when the time came.

"Fire in the hole!"

Danny was the first one through the hatch. The rest peeled off and followed. Saul was the last one through. He had tossed a grenade behind him to disrupt pursuit and closed the hatch.

They pressed forward. Up one deck. Straight toward the auxiliary Damage Control station.

Three more hatches. Three more fire fights. Dozens killed, but Adama and his team were still intact when they made it to DC station.

Alexa and Danny got inside and went about venting as many compartments as they could.

William and Saul defended the perimeter.

They were in a bad position, defending a junction from three directions and ammo was finally getting scarce. Saul covered the left flank while William stepped out of cover and took down two more in the center corridor.

"Watch right!" shouted Saul.

William turned to confront another of the crew, but when he squeezed the trigger of his rifle nothing happened. No ammo. _Frak._ Three rounds hit him square in the chest. His vest stopped them all, but he still dropped to one knee in pain. Saul gunned the Marine down before the officer could readjust his aim.

William pulled out his sidearm and advanced far enough to retrieve the fallen Marine's rifle. By the time he had returned to his position Danny had moved up to defend the junction. Alexa had reappeared as well.

"We're clear!" snapped Tigh. "Let's move!"

They progressed to the port side and reached the vented compartments.

"Suit check," called Adama. "Pressure green."

"Green," they confirmed one by one.

William nodded to Alexa and she blew the hatch lock. They went forward, frame by frame, without resistance other than the occasional zero-pressure sealed hatch. When they moved starboard, back into the pressurized interior, they found that there was nothing in their way to CIC. The shipboard alarm had been silenced, the corridors were empty, the hatches left open. They pressed together in a consolidated three hundred sixty degree formation and moved through the final stretch slowly.

William blinked sweat out of his eyes and kept scanning the area ahead, but there was no one, no surprise ambush. Every step forward was done so with care, but nothing untoward happened. He heard nothing except his own breathing and the movements of his fellow team members.

They stopped outside the hatch to CIC. Everything was quiet. They shifted positions with Danny covering the rear while William and Alexa took point. Saul wrapped a gloved hand around the hatch handle and waited for the okay to move.

"Let's do this," whispered Adama. He nodded toward Saul. Tigh wrenched the hatch open and they piled through.

CIC was empty, except for two of the crew in the center of the room. One of them wore a Colonial uniform, dyed black with gold piping. He bore no other signs of insignia or rank. His graying hair was cropped neatly and his deep set blue eyes focused immediately on William. In his right hand he held a standard issue Colonial pistol and his left arm was slung across the neck of the other crewman, Adama's inside man: Xander.

Xander's expression was distorted in pain, and he had one hand pressed tightly against his side. There was a dark stain on his fatigues beneath his hand; blood.

Alexa and Danny tried to get past their leader, but Saul caught them both by the back of their combat vests and kept them from interfering.

William crept forward until he was within a few meters of the man who he assumed to be the Captain of the _Zopyros_.

"Tread carefully Major Adama," said the Captain in a measured baritone. William froze. "Yes, I know exactly who you are. It's an advantage of knowing your destiny, and accepting it. You and your team got this far because I let you. You've had your bloodletting now, there's no one left, so let us talk like reasonable men. Do you believe in destiny Major?"

"No," he replied and raised his rifle to line up with the Captain's head. "Why don't you let him go before I put a bullet through your skull?"

"You can't fight destiny, Adama," he began. "It catches up with you, no matter what you do." He adjusted his grip on Xander and moved the former pilot into Adama's line of sight. "I'll offer you a piece of advice," he continued, "when you finally have a battlestar of your own, know the name of every man and woman who serves with you._ Know who they really are_. Because if you don't, you will never stop the soldier that will be standing in your CIC one day, with a gun to your head."

Xander coughed and struggled. His knees had buckled and he was starting to suffocate. The Captain glanced down at him a moment and then released him. Xander collapsed to floor, gasping for breath.

"You have been accused of piracy, unlawful engagement of a Colonial Fleet vessel and murder of two pilots of the Fleet, among other crimes," said William. He stepped closer despite the fact that now the Captain's sidearm was trained on him. "Under the articles of Colonization the punishment for these crimes is death. As duly authorized by the President of the Colonies I can carry out that sentence right, frakking, now."

The Captain smiled and straightened his uniform with his free hand.

"You have not seen the size of the beast that will devour us all in order to stop you," he said. "Take your revenge. Sooner or later the day will come when I will have mine." He turned and set his gun down on the command table behind him, then turned back to face Adama.

William took the opening and fired. Three rounds went into the Captain's chest. The man's back hit the edge of the command table before he slid to the floor, dead.

Alexa rushed forward to help Xander.

William set his rifle on the table and collected the Captain's discarded sidearm. Something about this whole thing just wasn't right. The sidearm in his hand looked familiar enough, it was just like the one he had in the holster at his belt, but it was, off, somehow. It was too light. He released the magazine and checked the clip. It was empty. _"You and your team got this far because I let you."_ But why? _"It's an advantage of knowing your destiny, and accepting—"_

"Orders sir?" asked Danny.

"Bill." William looked up to where Saul stood across the table from him. "What do you want us to do now?" This wasn't right. It didn't add up. But William knew well enough that he was out of his depth. _"I don't want it just captured, I want it torn to pieces Major and I want her captain's head."_ The only thing he knew for certain was that he had a mission to complete and that it had already cost him as much as it was going to cost, he might as well finish it. _I'm a good soldier who does as he's told. _

"I— Uh, Danny, Alexa, take the rest of the G-four," he said. He set down the empty side arm and shouldered his rifle. "Get to the port maintenance access, set a stage one charge to detonate the primary oxygen lines, stage two on the fuel lines, rendezvous at the Raptor. Saul, help me get Xander up."

"Yes, sir," they said.

Alexa and Danny moved out at a jog to complete their task. William trusted that they would manage without too much trouble.

"All right Xander, let's get you outta here," said Adama. He bent down and helped to lift Xander up. Saul and William carried him between them and moved as quickly they could out of CIC and down a deck to the pressurized corridors that led straight back to the Raptor.

The corridors were clear the whole way back, but Xander's condition had worsened. His breath came in shallow bursts or bouts of coughing and it was strained, like he couldn't get enough air. He was pale and sweating and he had slipped in and out of consciousness twice by the time they got him into the Raptor.

Alexa and Danny weren't back yet.

Saul and William lowered Xander onto the floor in the tail end of the Raptor. Saul dragged the medkit over and opened it, then he went up front to prep for launch and their jump back to Aquaria's controlled space.

William knelt down beside Xander and examined him. The bullet had entered through his left side, just under his ribs and had probably traveled inward far enough to puncture a lung or clip a vein, it didn't really matter, there wasn't much that William could do other than try to seal the wound with gauze and tape.

"You just hang in there," said William. "I'll have you patched up in no time."

Xander convulsed in agony at the slightest touch so William gave him a shot of morpha to ease the pain and tried his best to seal off most of the hole, but one look into the young man's eyes told him that Xander already knew what Adama was unwilling to accept.

"I—I never—" Xander was wracked by another bout of coughing and blood started to come up. It covered his mouth in a red froth. "Never, told Nia—that I—"

William stopped him with a gentle pat on the shoulder and tried to muster a smile.

"Don't you go getting all talkative on me," he said. "You can talk all you want fifteen years from now when I'm the one who's—" He swallowed the last word. _Dying. _William pried off one of his gloves and took Xander's hand in his own. Xander's skin was clammy and his grip was feather light, but William held onto him anyway. "I'm sure Nia knew how much you cared about her. You don't have to worry about that. I'm sure she knew."

"Sir, it's been—an honor, t-to—"

"The honor's mine. You did good. Don't worry," he said around the tightness in his throat and chest. "You did really good." William looked up and glanced at the open floor hatch behind him. _Godsdammit where are Alexa and Danny? We have to go._

Xander was overcome by another series of coughs. This time the blood spilled over onto his chin and when his head rolled sideways it ran down the corner of his mouth in a thin river of crimson.

There was no way to get him to a doctor in time and there was no point in letting him suffer. William grabbed with his free hand for the second shot of morpha and fumbled to get a third one out of the second medkit. He did his best to distract Xander while he injected him.

"Everything's gonna be okay now," he said. William gave Xander the third shot. Xander's breathing was finally unhindered by pain and started to slow. "We're gonna take you—we're gonna take you home. You just rest." In another few seconds Xander had stopped breathing altogether. William bent down farther and listened to Xander's chest to be sure. No heartbeat. No sound at all. William reached up and gently closed the young man's eyes. He was gone. "Frak." _Frak. _

The sound of movement and people clambering through a small space kept William from focusing too long on Xander. Alexa and Danny had come back, both in one piece.

"He okay?" asked Danny toward Xander. Alexa, it seemed, had already figured it out.

"He's dead," she said. There was a brief expression of grief on her face, but then she swallowed and buried it down. "Seal the hatch. We have to get out of here."

Danny hesitated, his eyes still on Xander's corpse.

"Danny! Seal the frakking hatch!"

He finally did as she ordered. No one said anything after that. Alexa discarded her empty backpack and her rifle onto the floor and went up to the cockpit where she strapped into the pilot's seat. William moved to sit with his back against the rear of the vehicle. Saul had been sitting quietly up front, but he motioned for Danny to take his spot in the copilot's chair and joined William in the back of the Raptor.

The soft seal on the _Zopyros_ was broken and they burned at full thrust to get as far away from the ship as possible. The FTL drive was spun up and ready, and the jump was plotted, but they stayed to be sure that the job was done.

Alexa changed their orientation so that the _Zopyros _was visible through the canopy. Moments later there was a brilliant white flash and one of the frigate's main engines exploded in a short-lived burst of orange fire. The rest of the tail section detonated and the _Zopyros _was torn apart. It was over.

Saul reached over and put a hand on William's shoulder. It was precious little comfort.

"I'm sorry, Bill," said Saul. He looked up front toward Alexa and Danny. "At least most of us came back. We both know it could have been a lot worse."

William sighed and closed his eyes.

"No," he replied. "This is bad enough."

That ship had cost him three of his pilots. He had gotten embroiled in something that he didn't understand. He knew in that rational part of his mind that revenge couldn't bring Tobias, or Nia, or Xander back. It couldn't fix the mistakes he'd made with his marriage, or his lapses in judgment, or his feelings of having been manipulated. But that knowledge hadn't stopped him in the past, and it didn't stop him the present, it probably wouldn't even stop him in the future, only now he was beginning to realize that the cost wasn't only to himself. _I can't afford to keep making these mistakes._

"Let's go home," he said.

"Yes, sir," replied Alexa.

They jumped away.

* * *

AN: This part was a very long time in coming for lots of reasons, but it's finally here. Apologies for the delay, thanks for your patience (and thanks in advance for reviewing). Next update won't be until after December because November is National Novel Writing Month and I have a deadline to meet for that :) Hope to see you all on the other side of the jump.


	16. Carved Out of Stone

_12 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 52  
Location: Caprica – Morrigan's Bar Outside Delphi Air Base Primus_

Morrigan's usual assortment of working folk had been displaced tonight by half a squadron of drunken pilots. The air was clouded with the same cheap cigar smell and the drinks were still overpriced, but the background chatter had been replaced by roaring laughter and shouting.

William sat on a stool with his back against the bar counter in the midst of a circle of tables that had been allocated to storing glasses in varying stages of emptiness. Saul was on the stool to William's right, getting his drink refilled.

Three pilots in green fatigues, Getty, Bulldog, and Kicker leaned on each other for support while chanting something that William thought translated into; "Viper pilots in the sun, watch those Cylons run, grab your gun and watch 'em run!" but he couldn't be certain. Bushman and Redbone were inside the ring of tables arm in arm and dancing in circles in an attempt to make each other dizzy. Jackman and Arnold were at one of the left hand tables, doing shots with every round of Triad. Billyboy and Slavy had mysteriously acquired a Pyramid ball. They tossed it around near the back tables, darting in and out of the smoke haze.

Saul had turned around to watch the pilots with his full cup in hand. "Makes you miss being young eh?" he said with a nod toward them, but William only shook his head.

He knew better.

"Those days are over," he sighed. He set his untouched drink on the counter behind him. "They have been for a while now."

Saul's expression revealed a flicker of concern, but he didn't pursue it directly, instead he slid off his stool onto his feet.

"All right, you rabble!" shouted Tigh. "That's enough! Time for a toast!" The pilots all scrambled for the nearest glass with something in it, never mind whether it belonged to them or not. "I have seen some things in the service that you wouldn't believe, but I will tell you right now I have never seen a CAG as bad at paperwork as this man right here." He threw an arm across Adama's shoulders. "How you are going to survive as _Columbia__'s _XO—I will never know." The two veterans shared a brief smile and William suppressed both a chuckle and a spasm of anxiety. _It's not really good-bye…_ _yes it is._

"Here's to Bill Adama," continued Saul, "the worst CAG in the history of CAGs—and to the poor bastards who have him for an XO." There was a concordant shout from the pilots and they emptied their glasses.

William retrieved his whiskey off the counter behind him. _Best to indulge them._

"I wouldn't have to do all that paperwork if I didn't have a squadron full of nuggetsthat can't fly!" he replied over their laughter. He lifted his glass to his mouth. "Honestly, you call yourselves pilots?" he said before taking a sip. While he downed the whiskey, another voice filtered through from the back of the room.

"I'll toast to that one," she said. The speaker emerged from the shadow of one of the corner tables and moved through the haze toward Adama. "We could out fly this whole sorry bunch."

Her voice wasn't quite the same as he recalled; it had lost some of its bite and she had on a brown leather jacket and plain clothes that were as near-civilian as he'd ever seen her. Her hair was no longer confined by a ponytail and was instead simply tucked behind her ears, giving her face a vaguely softer look. Even her old swagger was more subdued than he remembered, but William recognized her.

"Alexa." He smiled.

As she made her way toward the circle of tables, William glanced over his right shoulder and caught Saul grinning. Adama shifted his weight toward Tigh just enough to be heard over the general chatter.

"I'm gonna get you back," he said in low rumble, "for this whole thing."

Saul chuckled, "Sure Bill," and patted him on the shoulder before moving off to occupy the rest of the pilots with another story of how he or Adama had pulled it all out of the fire on some mission or other.

Alexa had paused to say hello to Danny, but when she reached William instead of shaking his hand, she hugged him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. There was a moment of hesitation before he returned the gesture.

"It's good to see you," she said when she stepped back.

He suddenly found himself feeling like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. Lurking in her chocolate brown eyes and her guarded smile, he could see clearly the junior officer who had joined the S.O. Division ten years ago and who had yet to know the loss of comrades or fear of death. At the same time, he saw the Alexa who was older now, who had been afraid, who had followed him off the precipice into an ill-fated quest for vengeance, and whose fanaticism had been tempered by grief. Still, no matter how much she had changed he felt the same warm sentiment, the sense of regained familiarity that comes with seeing old friends again.

He wished, for the first time that night, that he didn't have to leave.

"It's good to see you too," he said.

-xxx-

William unbuckled the restraints across his chest while the door to his Raptor lifted open. He sighed before easing out of his seat. _So much for my flying days_. He grabbed the duffel bag behind his seat by the strap and slung it over one shoulder on his way out. The rest of his possessions would follow in a day or two, but even in the four years since the divorce, he hadn't acquired much of anything that he couldn't carry in his duffel.

He paused at the exit and snapped to attention.

"Colonel William Adama, reporting for duty, sir," he said with a salute to the commander standing on the deck in front of him. "Request permission to come aboard."

"Granted," replied Commander DiMarco around the lit cigar in his mouth. If there was one word to describe Julian DiMarco it was blocky. From his cropped blonde hair, his square jaw and shoulders to the square frames of his glasses, DiMarco was a man composed almost entirely of right angles. "I'll walk you to your quarters," he said as soon as William retrieved his duffel and stepped off the Raptor onto the deck.

"I didn't know I warranted this kind of personal attention," said William. A chuckle escaped DiMarco's throat along with a puff of smoke from his cigar.

"I'm not one for sitting at my desk," he replied without elaborating. They made their way off the hangar deck into the sleek corridors of the battlestar _Columbia_. "I saw in your record that you were in Operation Raptor Talon."

"Yes, sir. It was a helluva way to end the war." Even now, William remembered his wingman, Banzai over the radio, his panicked _"_Columbia's _gone!" _mixed with the intermittent screams that were cut short as the original _Columbia_was consumed in a flash of white and orange light. It was an eerie sensation, a slight prickling of the short hairs on the back of his neck that remained with him as he walked through her successor's halls, even though he knew the ships shared nothing more than their names. "I'm half expecting to run into a ghost here."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did." William cast a sidelong look at his commander, but DiMarco's attention was elsewhere while he returned the salutes of a passing group of pilots. The two men turned down another corridor. "How much of a briefing did you get on The Program?" he asked. William suppressed a frown at the sudden change in subject.

"I was told it was experimental, but legal." The interrogation program was the reason that the new _Columbia_had been built. In the belly of the ship was a network of cells, observation and interrogation rooms reserved for extracting information from prisoners whose high security status required them to be mobile. William didn't tell his commander that he had reservations. He didn't say that the inherent secrecy of The Program chafed against the democratic ideals that his father had instilled in him of civil liberties and due process of law. _I'm a good soldier who does as he's told._

Instead, he listened without comment while DiMarco outlined the basics of their "unofficial" assignment and William's duties as XO, until they finally reached Adama's new quarters.

"Here you are." DiMarco waved the cigar in his hand toward the hatch. "I have to be in CIC before we start jumping out toward Ragnor. I'll see you tomorrow, morning watch, oh four hundred," he said.

"Yes, sir." William saluted then opened the hatch to his quarters.

The room had all of life's necessities, a bunk, desk, chairs, a head in the back, and storage space practically everywhere. He gently set his duffel down onto the floor. His new quarters were more living space than he'd ever had all to himself in his entire life and he found himself unsure of what he was going to do with it. He did the first thing that occurred to him; he unpacked the small collection of framed pictures he had stowed away in his duffel and arranged them on his new desk.

The first picture was of Lee with his arm over Zak's shoulders, smiling at the end of a day at the beach. There were a few more of his family and one of him and Tigh. The last picture he removed didn't have a frame yet. The bartender had taken it the night before, at Morrigan's. It was of him and Alexa laughing amid the crowd of pilots who had gathered for one last round of drinks before departing.

-x-

"So, did they finally kick you out?" asked William as he and Alexa grabbed chairs, sat down at one of the relatively clear tables and appropriated a Triad deck. Danny and Saul took up places beside them.

"Got promoted," she replied with another broad smile. She shuffled the cards in her hands with quick, sure movements. "And transferred. I'm doing prototype testing on Picon."

"Finally got away from that prick Marcus then?" asked Danny. There was a brief grimace around the table.

"Not exactly," she sighed. "He's my CO on the mark six project." She dealt out the cards to each of them in turn. "I'm not sure if he's a sadist or a masochist in requesting me, but it's better than flying a Raptor."

"Sooner or later everyone settles down," responded William coolly to her verbal jab. "A restless spirit like you? Never thought you'd take a planet-side assignment, but here we are."

She paused to check her cards. "I just got tired of sucking down recycled air."

"We gonna play, or what?" demanded Tigh. They all laughed and finally turned their attention to the game. In lieu of cubits, they bet shots and soon enough it evolved into a drinking contest more than a round of Triad.

-x-

A month later, William sat in his quarters aboard the _Columbia_ finishing Tom Zarek's recently published manifesto, _The Revolution Within._

_My voice cannot be silenced. Nearly everyone has a price…the prison guard with a taste for little girls, the secretary who wishes her ex-boyfriend would simply 'disappear,' the delivery boy with a crippling indiscretion on his police record. Loyalty is made available in exchange for convenience. The universe provides. _

William closed the back cover.

The picture Zarek had painted of the Colonies that William so faithfully served was not one of unity and democracy, but a set of tribal, divided states, held together by a common fear, a common enemy that went by the name of Cylon. Adama had seen first hand the truth of Zarek's words, but true words or not, Thomas J. Zarek was still a terrorist. Removing men like Zarek from civilization had brought peace to Sagittaron, it would quell the periodic uprisings on Aerelon, and it would keep the Taurons from crossing the line. That was what Adama believed. It's what he had to believe in order to keep serving. It was all he had left.

He set the book aside and took off the reading glasses that he loathed wearing. The glasses were another reminder of why he was here, sitting at a desk, spending his days in CIC instead of in a cockpit, he was finally at that point where he could no longer deny his age.

The transition from pilot to command staff had been difficult. Instead of the ache of hands, legs and chest at the end of a mission, he spent four hours a day staring at Dradis readouts until the muscles in the side of his neck cramped and spread in lines of tension down his shoulders into his back. When he listened to the wireless during the squadron's training exercises he would sometimes experience a sudden pang of nausea in the pit of his stomach. It was as if his body expected him to brace for high Gs, but because he was standing still, the conflicting information was causing some kind of reverse motion sickness.

Outside his duties in CIC he spent another two hours a day below decks, listening to smugglers, arms dealers, and mercenary captains, scream and cry and confess their sins under the attentions of _Columbia_'s interrogators. He relieved all his pent up stress by boxing with Commander DiMarco twice a week, drinking himself to sleep a least one night a week and by reading books.

Unfortunately, wading through Zarek's pessimistic rhetoric was not relaxing. William sighed and leaned back in his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger and closed his eyes.

A few moments later, there was a knock on the hatch.

"Colonel Adama?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

"Come in," he called.

The hatch opened and in stepped a young officer who was obviously not a part of _Columbia_'s crew, but Adama recognized him by the blue sash across his chest. He was the type of officer who would find you wherever you were and that no one wanted to meet; Colonial Honor Guard. His cobalt blue eyes and sharp features made him the image of a perfect soldier, combined with his unadorned dress grays he looked as if he had been carved out of stone. Between his white gloved hands was a folded Colonial flag. He snapped to attention and saluted. William stood up and tried to fight down the rising tightness in his chest.

"Colonel Adama," began the senior lieutenant in a dull tone that suggested he had recited this litany too many times already, "I am sorry to inform you that Captain Alexa Ciazo has perished in the line of duty." The young man brought his hand down to rest on top of the flag again and continued without even blinking. "As a representative of the Colonial Fleet, it is my honor to present you this flag as a symbol of gratitude for her devoted service to the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

William swallowed hard and went to reach for the flag in the young man's grasp, but his body refused to obey. This couldn't be true, it couldn't be. _"If you remain in the S.O. Division half of you will likely be dead inside of five years. The remainder will be damn lucky if they make ten."_ Alexa had been like Danny, like him, one of the lucky ones. He had seen her just last month, happy, smiling, alive. He glanced down at the picture on left corner of his desk, of the two of them laughing.

-x-

"Okay, okay, one last toast, come on." Danny reached for a full shot of Ambrosia in the middle of the table and knocked over a few empty glasses in the attempt. Saul and Alexa scrambled to keep any of them from falling or breaking. "To pilots," he said.

Saul grabbed a whiskey shot and joined Danny. "To those of us left," he said soberly, "the lucky ones."

William paused with a look to Alexa and Saul before he leaned forward and picked up a glass. "To friends."

Alexa's glass joined theirs. "To family."

-x-

Adama stared at the folded colors still held between the pristine gloves, trying to make his tongue work. "What about her family—"

"You were listed as her next of kin, sir."

William remembered the first day they'd met. Piconese, born and bred. Knew how to get a job done. She had never shared more about herself than that. While the rest of them had spoken of families back home Alexa had simply spoken of Picon as home. In hindsight, it made sense to him. She had been so devoted because she had nothing else, no one else.

He was her family.

He finally reached over and took the flag. The fabric was smooth and cold under his palms.

"Thank you, lieutenant," he said, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Sir." The officer saluted. William returned it. He looked down at the flag in his hands while the young man turned to leave.

"Uh, lieutenant," said William without looking up, "I don't suppose you can tell me how she—how she died?"

"I'm sorry sir, that information is confidential."

"Thank you. That'll be all, lieutenant." He was alone again when the hatch clanged shut. William set the flag down gently onto the desk in front of him. His hand shook as his fingers ran over the fabric. Something wasn't right about this. He didn't know what it was, only that the man with the answers was Marcus Adar. He would at least know _how_ she died, if nothing else. William remembered the promise he had made to Marcus, all those years before… _"If one of my pilots ends up dead because of you or one of your team I'll geld you with a rusty pair of scissors."_

He left his quarters in order to find Commander DiMarco. It was time to ask for a favor.

-xxx-

A week later, William stepped off a transport onto the solid ground of Picon. He had been granted a couple days leave because, as Commander DiMarco had said, loyalty worked in two directions. _"Men like you, men like me, we have to give as much loyalty as we get. I chose you for that singular reason Bill, not your flight record. I won't stand in your way on this one. But I know you've been, uncomfortable, with some of what we do here. When you come back I expect you to be fully committed to this program."_

It didn't take long until William found Marcus' office. It wasn't an impressive space to William, but it seemed that Marcus was concerned with impressing others as evidenced by his hardwood desk, his opulent leather chairs and his prominently displayed commendations, not that were very many to display. The man himself was busy with paperwork and the only thing William could see was the top of his balding head.

"I was wondering how long it would be before you showed up, Colonel," he said without looking up. "You're not going to do this for all of your pilots, for the rest of your career are you Bill? It's not healthy. You should learn to let things go."

"I just want to know what happened," said William calmly. He strode across the carpeted floor and stopped in front of Marcus' desk. Marcus didn't reply at first, instead he finished signing the paper in front of him before he even bothered to look up.

"Have a seat." William didn't sit.

"There's something I want you to know." Marcus leaned back in his chair. His voice while he spoke, his entire demeanor, was dispassionate. "That little stunt you pulled a few years back— _Hyperion _was the flagship in the mission to capture _Zopyros_. Do you have any idea how your inside man ingratiated himself with the crew of that pirate? He exposed two of our operatives, cost us the entire mission and practically ruined Commander Stark's chances for Admiral. Now I don't know if they were given a swift execution or if they had to scream for hours as they were tortured to death. I don't care. It's the reason I have these," he gestured to the commander pins on his collar, "and you don't."

"Your point?"

Marcus stood up and paced from one end of his desk to the other, his hands clasped behind his back. "Well, how do you suppose your man knew who they were?" he asked. "Who do you think had that information?" He turned to lean forward and rested his palms on the desk. "Alexa betrayed two of her fellow crew so that you could have your revenge." Now William could detect an under current of bitterness in Marcus. "If not for Kearney calling in favors to get the paperwork 'lost', Alexa, and you as well, would have been court-martialed and probably stripped of your citizenship. The _point _is that if I was as reckless and vengeful as you are, I would have had that traitorous bitch of a—"

William grabbed Marcus by the front of his uniform. "Watch your mouth," he snarled. Marcus glanced down at Adama's fist wrapped in the fabric of his jacket, nonplussed.

"I would think, very carefully, about what you're doing here." He looked William in the eye. "My brother is governor of Caprica, so if you don't let go right now, and step back, I will see to it that you never set foot on that planet again."

William fought down the urge to shove Marcus back and released him instead. Adama took one step back. Marcus straightened his uniform and returned to his chair.

"As much as she was a thorn in my side, Alexa was the best," he said. "That and she was crazy enough to take the job." Marcus pulled another sheet of paper in front of him and picked up his pen. "It was an accident. She was test flying the mark six prototype, there was a system failure in the main thrusters and the plane turned into a falling brick. She was coming in too hot, thought she could stick the landing anyway. Something she no doubt learned from you. It was a live fire exercise and something must have clipped a line. Her plane was spraying tylium fuel everywhere," he said with a glance up. "One spark and the whole plane went up. Literal blaze of glory ending for your girl."

"An accident?" pressed William. "After everything you told me, you expect me to believe that?"

"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. There's nothing you can do about it." He signed the bottom of the sheet in front of him and grabbed another. "That plane Alexa was flying was worth more to me than her life and I'm not going to lie and say I wish she wasn't dead, but accidents happen in the service, even to the best. You're going to have to accept that."

"If I don't?"

"Sooner or later Kearney is not going to be there to protect you anymore," he replied without looking up. "Take this as a lesson and walk away. If you aren't careful about the choices you make, good people die, accidents happen, and you acquire powerful enemies. You reap what you sow, and if you can't let go of your attachments you'll never survive. Now get out of my office, Colonel, before I call security."

He wanted to tell Marcus to go frak himself, to go ahead and call security because he'd need it after William got through with him, but Adama clenched his teeth together and turned around. Marcus had made himself clear. He'd had his revenge. And there was nothing William could do. He left Marcus' office and reported back to _Columbia_ the next day.

You reap what you sow were the first words of Zarek's book and their source did not dilute their truth, but that was not the part of lesson William learned. All he learned was that it was time to let go of all of the things that kept holding him back.

Not long after he got off the shuttle he stood in Commander DiMarco's quarters.

"I'm committed," he said, reaffirming the words he had spoken ten years prior in Commander Corman's office. "I will do whatever it takes to keep the Colonies safe." Even if it meant taking orders he didn't entirely like, casting aside his reservations, and participating in secret interrogations that he knew in his gut probably weren't anywhere near legal.

William thought that if he let go of enough maybe he could save himself from any more hurt.

He would learn to be carved out of stone.

* * *

AN: It's been ages, but I'm back (more or less). Despite some long delays, the story will get finished, I promise. School will be out again soon and I'll have plenty of free time after that. Thanks to everyone who has been so very patient.

For anyone curious the "quotes" from The Revolution Within are borrowed from the great and fantastic Zarek comics. I highly suggest giving them a read, they're very well done and full of interesting back story on our favorite terrorist.


	17. In The Present

_8 Years before cylon attack  
Laura Roslin age 43  
Location: Tauron Controlled Space – Colonial One En Route to Luna Three_

_To be adrift was perhaps the worst way to live. Being carried along by the current, at the mercy of nature's whims, was both humbling and frightening. In the middle of the sea, the planks of wood and worn rope that I clung to were all that stood between me and drowning__._

_The raft was not as seaworthy as I'd hoped. The waves repeatedly threatened—_

Laura closed the book she had been reading during the flight and leaned back into the cushioned seat. She stared up at the vanilla ceiling of _Colonial One_.

He was back there, in his office, alone.

Richard alone was an elusive occurrence even at the best of times. He'd spent the last four and half years devoted to his campaign for the presidency, continually surrounded by the press or his campaign managers, spending his nights locked away in his office, working late in order to fulfill his duties as Governor of Caprica. Compared to now, those days had been filled with opportunity.

She could hardly remember how many months it had been since they had managed more than a few stolen moments together, and the last time had not ended particularly well. It had been during the party at campaign headquarters on the night of his election. She had pretended to feel unwell during the celebration and Richard, ever the consummate gentleman, had offered her the couch in his office to recover.

It wasn't long before he had joined her under the pretext of checking on her welfare. "_Feeling better?" _he had asked. _"Mm, much better. Congratulations mister President." _She remembered how he had smiled, his expression tainted by arrogance, so different from the first time they'd met…_"Congratulations to you too, madam Secretary," _he said as he tried to smooth over the pursuit of his agenda with soft kisses. _"What?—wait, stop. Richard, we discussed this. You know I don't want to be Secretary of Education. I told you after the election was over that I was going back to teaching." _His self-satisfaction dissolved in the wake of her continued protest.

"_Laura, don't do this again," _he intoned. _"I know it hasn't been easy, I've been so busy, my campaigning and the election… but we've come this far together and I only want to see you get the recognition you deserve." _When she turned away from him in an attempt to shore up her failing resolve he merely slid his arms around her waist and pressed his body close to hers so that his whispered entreaties were impossible to ignore.

"_Do you honestly think you can go back to being just another powerless cog in the system and be satisfied? After what we've accomplished together? The people of the Twelve Colonies still need you. _I_ still need you. Say yes." _There was a part of her that recognized his undisguised attempt at manipulation, but it didn't matter. It didn't change the fact that what he said was not wholly devoid of truth. _"All right," _she exhaled. _"All right, all right. I'll take the job. I'll stay."_ She just couldn't say no. She didn't really want to.

"_I'm glad we agree. Everything will be different. I promise."_

If by different he had meant that his every waking moment since the election would be scheduled, and that between the press events, the speeches, and the cabinet meetings, alone was a state of being for him that would all but cease to exist, then he had kept his promise. He'd kept it exceptionally well. Not that she had helped the situation much, but this was not then.

This was now.

Laura glanced over her shoulder at the row of blue seats behind her. Most of them were empty since this trip would be a short one. George Livy, the Chief of Staff was asleep. His bald head was tilted back into his seat cushion in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position. Cathrin, the Press Secretary was huddled off to the side, busy haggling with Dominik Grenville, Adar's speechwriter. Admiral Nagala, the Colonial Fleet liaison, wasn't in her seat, but up in the cockpit, probably chatting up the pilots.

Right now was an opportunity.

One that might not come again for a _very_ long time…

Laura slid out of her seat and made her way down the aisle of worn blue carpeting, past the rows of seats, toward the sectioned off area of the rear cabin. Two men from Adar's security detail in their black suits and ties stood on either side of the thin door to Richard's office like the twin lion statues that guarded the entrance to the People's Council Hall on Caprica. They both glanced at her briefly with their steel blue eyes, but she was of no concern to them and likewise they were of none to her.

She didn't knock or betray her entrance into his office with anything more than the click of the door closing behind her. The orderly desk a few paces away, flanked by the flag of Caprica and of the Presidential Office, was vacant. She skirted the edge of the desk and made her way toward the navy blue curtain at the back of the room that divided Richard's office from his private accommodations. She found him on the far right of the well-furnished space standing before a full-length mirror struggling with his tie, an act in itself that was entirely unlike him. From his mumbled curses and the tense lines of his posture, she could tell something was amiss, but the source of Richard's frustration, besides the aforementioned tie, was beyond her ability to decipher.

He must have noticed her in his peripheral vision because he abruptly stopped fussing over his otherwise immaculate wardrobe.

"Finally done being upset over your promotion after all these months?" he asked, his gaze still focused on his reflection in the mirror. She tried to ignore the edge of bitter reprisal in his tone.

"If this is a bad time…"

He smiled and moved toward her until he was close enough to draw her into a loose embrace. This close she could feel how his entire body was tense.

"I'm only about to meet one of the most infamous terrorists in the history of the Twelve Colonies while riots are breaking out all across Sagittaron. Riots, in a colony full of backwards pacifist—" He clenched his jaw shut and closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. "Who knew that wannabe soldier Nathan Kearney would leave me with such a mess? After all that military spending meant to 'maintain order,' I still inherit riots and terrorists. If only I could blame it all on some vast Cylon conspiracy. Maybe the Lords of Kobol just have it out for me."

When he saw that his wry humor had failed, his smile vanished. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "It's just all this pressure I'm under, and without you … Lately, it's been difficult." Normally he would have kissed her then. Normally when they were alone together, he didn't say much of anything, but as his hazel eyes searched her expression, she knew that the real source of his earlier frustration wasn't entirely a product of his upcoming meeting with Tom Zarek.

"Why is it," he began quietly, "that every time I look at you lately, I can't help thinking maybe you were right? Maybe I should have let you go when you wanted to leave. You probably would have been happier. Maybe even found someone you might actually love—"

"Richard, I—"

"Don't. Laura, I'm not a moron. When this began, I might have been naïve enough to think that given enough time, things would change, but I know better than to indulge in those kinds of illusions. Your…affection, for me is certainly not what keeps you here, but something does, regardless of how many times you've told me you're done with it all and let's face it if you were really so unhappy you wouldn't let a few half-hearted entreaties stop you. It makes me wonder, if you knew I'd let you go without a word to the contrary, would you go through with it, would you actually leave?"

She looked away and didn't answer.

"I thought so."

He waited, until she finally met his gaze.

"What's the real reason you stay?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I'm curious." He tightened his embrace. "Indulge me."

"I stay," she replied, her lips brushing against his, "because you still need me. You said so yourself." Her effort to deflect the conversation only frustrated him further, but then he kissed her, hard enough to push her back a step, as if through the sheer intensity of his desire he could wrest the answer he wanted from her, but she had no intention of ever telling him the truth.

She would never tell him that she stayed because, despite the risk of potentially career-ending scandal, he was safe. He had neither the luxury nor the inclination to demand of her anything more than what she was willing to give.

She had been the dutiful daughter, the efficient and well-liked teacher, the consummate politician and advisor who didn't cause trouble, and the supportive, if infrequent, lover of the most powerful man in the Twelve Colonies. She adopted each new guise with unsurpassable skill, carrying the responsibilities they entailed like a shield. But none of it was enough to combat what felt like some internal disconnect between her mind and her body. It was as if she was a ghost inhabiting a form with all of the things necessary to interact with the world, to feel its effects and extend her influence over it, and yet true focus of her attention was always somewhere…else.

Except when she was with Richard. With a look, a word, or a touch he had the ability pull her back to herself and keep her rooted in the present.

In the present, the pressure of his lips against hers compelled her to give ground, drawing him after her until he had her pinned against the wall. It was always a delicate balancing act with him. They both knew his reliance on her designated her as the one with the real power so when it was necessary to maintain the balance, or when she wanted to keep him from asking unpleasant questions, she gave ground.

When he pressed against her with his knee between her legs she responded by draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning into him. She closed her eyes as the familiar warmth from his wandering hands sent her heartbeat racing and after he inhaled in the middle of a kiss, it left her literally breathless. She knew that her control of the situation was rapidly slipping away, but in that moment, she couldn't have cared less. Her only thought was that that damn belt of his had to go.

She pulled away from him just enough to get one of her hands around the buckle. She smiled when she heard his sharp intake of breath as her fingers strayed momentarily from the task of loosening the strap. Laura knew he wasn't about to let her teasing go unchallenged, but before he could retaliate, _Colonial One_'s intercom crackled to life.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, we are commencing our final approach to Luna Three and will be docked at the port side airlock in a few minutes." _

"Dammit!" He shifted his weight and rested his forehead against the wall while he tried to catch his breath.

"See Richard, this is what happens when you spend too much time talking."

He gave her a pointed look that said; _I'm not done with you yet, _but one thing he had learned well from her in the course of their affair was that secrecy demanded discipline and that when the chance for indulgence had passed that was it. Instead of lingering for one last kiss, or anything else for that matter, like he had done years ago when this had all been new, he withdrew enough for her to extricate herself from him with almost careless grace.

She smoothed out her skirt and he adjusted his belt with sigh of defeat.

"Did you have a chance to review your follow up speech with Dominik?" he asked while she fixed his tie.

"No, he and Cathrin were too busy arguing whether Zarek should be called a radical or a revolutionary instead of a terrorist."

"Those two will never agree on anything." He moved to retrieve the jacket he had left draped over the back of the chair in the corner. "If this meeting with Zarek goes poorly I don't know how much good a speech on prisoner education reform is going to do anyway."

"Then let's hope everything goes smoothly."

-xxx-

The dossier on Luna Three had listed that the prison moon was more commonly referred to as Cold Hell. As Laura walked down the concourse tunnel toward the main entrance, she thought the name was certainly appropriate. Luna Three was barely large enough to hold onto an atmosphere and far enough from the blazing heat of the solar core that even in the protected corridor of reinforced thermoplastic she could see her own breath.

The sky that stretched above her was overflowing with stars, but their light couldn't penetrate the deep shadows that cloaked the moon's surface beyond the harsh blue lighting of the prison facility. What she could see of the prison was a sprawling collection of steel and tunnels half-buried in the jagged black rock. _This place would be a challenge to paint_, she thought, but she had given up painting a long time ago, ever since the affair, and so instead of thinking of what colors she would have used she focused on the security checkpoint ahead and on Richard.

If it was possible, he seemed even more tense than before. No matter how hard he tried or well he hid it, she knew that his increased level of frustration did not bode well for his temper. Her concern mounted as they went through all the security procedures and were escorted into the stuffy conference room where the press and Tom Zarek awaited them. She and the rest of Adar's staff kept to the periphery while Richard moved to the table that had been set up in the center of the room. While the two men shook hands and sat down to the furious clicking of cameras, Laura watched Zarek.

"Tom, let me get to the point. You're a man of principle, you only want what's best for your people and I can respect that. That's why I'm willing to offer you a full pardon, if you'll just do one thing for me, apologize, give up violence as a means of political change. There are people out there still, killing and dying in your name and it has to stop. I'm asking you to help me put an end to this tragic waste of lives so that we can move past this toward a better future."

Tom Zarek no longer looked like the hardened, self-righteous young terrorist who had blown up the Sagittaron's Labor Ministry and whose name could inspire fear across the colonies. Twelve years in prison had reduced him to a man that appeared as unthreatening as any other, average in almost every regard, worn down by hard labor and confinement. She would have guessed he was ready to accept the pardon that Richard was offering if not for the look in his eyes of patience and quiet contempt. _This is going to be a disaster._

"Mister President," he answered calmly, "if there are freedom fighters out there battling the system of corruption and exploitation that has held them captive for so many years, then they're doing it because _it needs to be done_, not because of me. So thank you for the offer, but I must respectfully decline. I trust my refusal will have no bearing on my parole hearing. Now, if you're through with me, I'd like to be taken back to my cell."

"You sonofabitch!" snapped Richard before he could reign himself in. "I can't fix a broken system when criminals like you are undermining the progress we've made at every turn. I will not allow terrorism to disrupt the government of the Colonies or the lives of its loyal citizens even if it takes hunting down and locking up every last miserable man like you. Get him out of here!"

Zarek was escorted out of the room while the press crowded around to record the aftermath. Laura sighed. Disaster had been an understatement.

-xxx-

An hour and a half of damage control with the press had left everyone noticeably exhausted by the time they headed back to _Colonial One_. Even Richard seemed completely drained of his earlier hostility. He had tried to mitigate the damage he'd caused after losing his temper by reiterating he knew the government was far from perfect, but that he was intent on making progress, despite men like Zarek who might try to stand in the way of it. After fielding questions for an hour, he had Laura give her speech as planned, but the press took little notice in the face of this newest scandal with Zarek.

Once onboard _Colonial One_, they all gathered in the main cabin for a final debrief while the ship got under way. Laura took a seat by herself. Richard stood quietly in their midst while Cathrin offered her assessment of the current situation and Dominik fumed in the seat next to her. When it was his turn, Dominik delivered an impassioned rant that he'd probably had planned since they'd left the last prison security checkpoint and Richard listened until Dominik had run out of things to say and resumed glaring at the back of the seat in front of him.

"I'm sorry that I gave the two of you more work with that outburst," said Richard. "Can you come up with a plan for the next few days to deflect the press?" When Cathrin nodded he turned to his Chief of Staff and Admiral Nagala. "Do we have an update on the Sagittaron situation?"

"There was another attack at the recruiting station in Thelona Province," replied Nagala. "A few more ongoing riots."

"All right, Admiral I'd like you to get a suppression plan in place. George can help you coordinate with Jack Reed at the Defense Ministry. I want that province under control by the time we get back to Caprica." Then at last, he turned to Laura. "Anything you'd like to add to the discussion madam secretary?"

"No, but there are a few modifications to the last education budget proposal I'd like to discuss with you."

Richard nodded.

"Okay we can talk that over in my office, the rest of you, get to work." He turned to leave and Laura got up from her seat to follow him. When they were out of earshot of the rest of the staff he smiled briefly. "Budget proposal. That's a good one." He ushered her into his office with a word to his security detail that he wasn't to be disturbed. "Now," he began once the door had clicked shut behind him, "where were we?"


	18. A Man Isn't A Man

_6 Years before cylon attack*  
William Adama age 58  
Location: Tauron Regional Space Extreme Range – Battlestar Valkyrie _

"How long's it been?" asked Adama as Danny settled into one of the chairs in his quarters.

"Five? No, six, six years." Danny seemed so much older than that, but grief and time apart had aged them both. "Ever since that night at Morrigan's, before Alexa…"

"She was a damn good pilot. Twice as good as you, three times crazier than all of us combined." Adama smiled briefly at the memory.

Danny shook his head. "I don't know about that. This mission, it'd be out on the edge, even for her. Poking our noses into Cylon territory, violating the Armistice… It's insane. I thought you were done with this kind of stuff."

"You know the Admiralty," replied Adama. "Edington, Farro, Corman, they were all in on this one. To them, once you're in, there's no such thing as being done and they made it clear they were gonna do this no matter what I said. Better me than some hothead who might frak us all if something goes wrong. I know you gave up ops like this after what happened to Alexa, and I tried to think of somebody else, but—"

"I understand why you asked. I wouldn't have said yes otherwise."

"It's not too late to turn back on this one."

"When your commander says go, you go. That hasn't changed for either of us. I'm still in it to the end, Bill. I always was."

-x-

"Stealthstar, _Valkyrie_. We register you o n Dradis, just past the Armistice line. You're o n full alert. Proceed with caution."

Ever since Danny had left the launch tube, Adama's eyes had remained fixed on the Dradis screen above him. Even when he blinked, the red stripe of the Armistice Line was burned across his vision and he had to fight the urge to hold his breath as he waited for Danny to report.

"Valkyrie, _Bulldog. I'm exactly two klicks past the line. Repeat, two klicks, and I've got negative Dradis contact."_

Relieved, Adama finally let his gaze drop. _So far so good._

"_There's nothing here, sir…" _

No Tylium refineries, no hidden shipyards, or weapons manufacturing facilities or other signs of a Cylon build up on the border as the Admiralty had feared; nothing. _Good. Now I can tell Corman I did the job and we can get out of here. _

"…_Helluva moon." _

Before he could order Danny to finish with the surveillance and return, Lieutenant Mercer called out a positive contact.

"Dradis contact! Unknown vessel just jumped in."

Adama's gaze snapped back to the Dradis console and his breath caught in his throat as the wireless erupted in a burst of static. _What have I done?_  
_  
"Frak! Krypter krypter krypter, I've got damage to the port engine. Bird is down, repeat bird is down. Request rescue. Krypter krypter krypter. This is Bulldog." _

"Vessel just jumped out, sir."

He had to get Danny out of there before—

"Two more Dradis contacts. Sir, please instruct."

Too late.

The sound of Danny's calls for help, the demands from the lieutenant for orders, they all faded into the background. His every instinct screamed at him to defend his man, to bring Danny back home no matter the cost. But it wasn't his career that would suffer or his life that would be over if he risked a fight to rescue his friend, it would be the people of the Colonies who suffered. It would be Carolanne and Lee and Zak.

He reached down for the phone, and his fingers wrapped around the cool plastic, but he couldn't give the order, not yet.

Saul's voice cut through his paralysis.

"Don't do this. Think about it, Bill. You don't wanna do this."

"Do you want his ship discovered? Do you know where we are? Do you have any idea what this could mean?" He wanted to plead, _give me an alternative, Saul. Anything. Tell me what other choice do I have? _

There was none. He knew.

"Bogies o n intercept course. Will merge with Stealthstar in 20 seconds. Sir?"

_If I don't let go…I'll never survive. _

He picked up the phone and gave the order.

"Weapons, launch ship-to-ship missile. Now." He watched the Dradis until the _Stealthstar_'sicon winked out.

The CIC was silent except for the steady pulse of the combat alarms and the Dradis.

"Lieutenant Mercer," said Adama quietly, "confirm target status."

"Confirmed. Target destroyed, sir." William strained not to flinch at the words.

"Unknown contacts have altered course to bearing seven four nine and will intercept Armistice Line in one minute."

Adama knew that the Cylons—_if that's what they were_—probably wouldn't cross the line, but it might not stop them from firing some missiles of their own and certainly wouldn't prevent them from gathering what intelligence they could on _Valkyrie._

"Jump us outta here." He leaned on the command console and bowed his head while the crew ran through the countdown procedure.

_I'm sorry Danny. _

-xxx-

The moment he was safely in his quarters, Adama started unbuttoning his jacket and cast it off on the floor. Then he collapsed into the soft leather of his couch and leaned back with his eyes closed. He scarcely had a chance to relax before there was a knock on the hatch. He ignored it at first in the hopes that whoever it was would go away, but after a brief respite, the sound resumed.

"Come in," he snapped and glanced up only when he heard the hatch open.

Saul poked his head in and a moment later, the rest of him followed. They hadn't spoken since _Valkyrie _had jumped back deep into Colonial territory two days ago. After he had secured the hatch, Saul grabbed a couple of glasses and set them down on the small table across from Adama along with the bottle of whiskey that he'd brought with him.

"Shouldn't you be prepping for your transport home?"

Saul pulled over a chair.

"Eh, I hate packing."

"Tomorrow's your first anniversary, shouldn't miss it. I missed one too many of mine and look what happened," he said while he filled both their glasses. "The only thing I got out of it was my ring sent back with the divorce papers."

"I'll just pick up some Ambrosia on the way home and she'll forgive me."

"I still don't understand why you married that woman."

"Neither do I." He shrugged. "You know how it is."

William downed the entire contents of his glass. The burn of the whiskey and the warming sensation that followed was just strong enough to take his attention away from the slight ache that had been in the pit of his stomach ever since he'd given the order to have Danny shot down. He still couldn't bring himself to write up the after action report.

They fell silent until over half the bottle was gone.

"I didn't have a choice," he sighed, "you know that."

"Those frakking Cylon bastards are gonna come after us some day, and whether we crossed some invisible line out in space won't make a godsdamned bit of difference," replied Saul. "I would've kicked 'em in their chrome plated asses. But…I'm not command material."

"I'm gonna visit his mother tomorrow." Adama set down his drink before it became obvious from the shifting contents that his hand was trembling. "I'm not allowed to tell her that it was my fault because the mission was classified one-alpha. I can't say that I requested him and put him out there in enemy territory, and then shot him down—." He sighed. "I don't know what else to tell her."

"Every soldier knows he might not come home. So does his family." Saul shrugged. "Bulldog was a good man, not half bad of a Viper jock, and a good friend, you tell her that. You don't even have to lie."

"It's not enough. If it was my son nothing would be enough." He rubbed at a knot at the base of his neck. "When I was at Lee's graduation last week it never crossed my mind what I would do if something happened to him, but now—"

-x-

An hour in a dim transport from Picon to Caprica had left Adama squinting in the sunlight and wishing that he hadn't come after all. The dress grey uniforms of newly minted lieutenants in the Colonial Fleet Reserves filled the parade ground of the Delphi Military Academy. They were mixed with the blues of other Colonial officers and the array of colors worn by civilian families. He scanned the crowd for the paler grey uniforms of the Early Commissioning Program graduates as he walked by clusters of young lieutenants and their loved ones.

It had come as something of a surprise when Lee had decided to attend a military college. It wasn't that he hadn't expected that one of sons would follow him into the service, but he and Carolanne used to joke that Lee was hers and Zak was his. Ever since the divorce Lee had been quiet, his nose always buried in books, and when he didn't apply to one of the junior academies, William had assumed his eldest just wasn't interested in the life of a soldier.

Then two years ago, he'd gotten a call from Lee asking for a letter of recommendation for his application to the Delphi Academy. Lee had decided on the Reserves and the ECP as something of a compromise that would allow him to continue attending school while earning time toward promotions. That it kept him out of active combat duty and paid for his education was probably the only reason Carolanne had gone along with it.

Adama eventually found Lee and his brother Zak amid a group of senior officers. Zak caught sight of his father first.

"Dad!" He jogged over with a broad grin and Adama gave him a quick hug.

"Damn, you're getting tall. You know if you get too big, you won't be able to fit in a cockpit and they'll make you fly Raptors."

"I hear those new mark sevens come in regular and extra large." William smiled and patted his son on the shoulder.

Lee had politely excused himself from other officers and moved to join them.

"Sir."

"Lee."

The two shook hands.

"Sorry I missed the ceremony. I had a briefing that ran long. But I heard you graduated third your class, that's good. That's really good."

"Thanks."

"How's your mother?"

"I wouldn't know."

"So, uh, after all your school is done, have you thought about a specialty?"

"I was thinking of going on to War College, something to do with tactics, maybe flight school. I haven't really decided yet."

"I'm sure you'd make a helluva pilot. Not to say there aren't plenty of other things to do in the Fleet, but it's a whole other world up there. The experience of pulling Gs and watching the stars spin, it just doesn't compare to anything else… a man isn't a man until he wears the wings of a Viper pilot."

-x-

"I told him being a Viper pilot would make him a man." Adama gave up trying to get the muscle spasm in his neck to go away. "I didn't tell Lee to be careful with the choices that he makes, the people that he gives his loyalty to, the danger of making compromises… He's following in my footsteps and I turned out to be a commander who willfully kills his own men. What kind of man does that make me?"

"I don't know Bill. You make your choices, you live with 'em. That's all anyone does. It just hurts a good man more." Once the bottle of whiskey was empty, Saul got up to leave. "I should get packing," he mumbled.

A moment later, Adama heard the clang of the hatch close and he sagged back into the cushions. It hurt. Every mistake, and regret and sacrifice hurt enough to stop the breath in his lungs. Still, he kept breathing.

Eventually, he got up and went to his desk. He sat down, shuttered his heart against the pain, and picked up Danny's personnel file.

There was only one thing to tell Danny's mother and that was that this would never happen again under his watch, not to anyone else. Even if it meant war, he would do everything he could to make sure that his pilots came home. They would all come home. Even if it was only in pieces. They would always come home.

* * *

AN: *There were some timeline frakups in the episode Hero concerning Adama's years of service with crew members of Galactica that were previously established as lasting from two years prior to the attacks, up to five years, that don't agree with subsequent dialogue presented in Hero. I have opted to err on the side of preserving the most amount of canon as possible in the way that will make the most amount of sense and thus have revised the date of the Armistice Mission accordingly. For a more detailed analysis of this headache inducing issue, Battlestarwiki has an entry on it in the analysis of the relevant episode.

Also, it's good to be back. Part of the massive delay (other than another project and then the show coming back and ending) was me writing a few chapters ahead to reduce future delays and to get to the easier parts of the story. I am at said easier parts, they seem nice, and I have an eye toward getting to my ending so I should be able to keep up a half-decent pace. The end will be worth the wait, I promise. And as always thanks for the reviews and your patience.


	19. What Happens

_4 Years before cylon attack  
Laura Roslin age 48  
Location: Caprica – Caprica City Office of the President_

Laura waited alone in the President's Office for Richard to return from his meeting with Secretary of Defense Jameson. After twenty minutes or so, she leaned back against the edge of his desk and switched on the wireless set next to her to listen to the midday news reports. The top story was the speech that Adar had given earlier that morning. Two days ago the Areias City Police had been overwhelmed by protesters during a union demonstration and yesterday Adar had ordered the Colonial Marines into Aerelon to reinforce them. The situation escalated and after shots were fired into the crowd, several civilians had been killed and dozens wounded.

"_What happened on Aerelon was unfortunate, but unavoidable. I was left with no other alternative than to act swiftly to prevent the spread of violence that would have resulted in further deaths. We cannot allow this tragedy to deter us from doing what is necessary to maintain the unity and safety of the Colonies. We must stay the course until—"_

"Shut that frakking thing off," snapped Richard as he stormed into his office.

She complied.

"I take it your meeting didn't go well?"

"Fifteen dead." He had sidestepped both her and her question to get to his chair. She turned and watched him with a mix of curiosity and concern. It had been months since she'd seen him this agitated over something and given his reaction, or rather lack thereof, to other recent events, she had begun to worry.

He dropped a navy blue folder on his desk, opened it, and removed a sheet with a list of names. "I should have listened to my instincts and never given the order. I won't make that mistake again. Not while I'm still president."

"Maybe you should have told the people that."

"And give half the Colonies another reason to fight me? They don't ever seem to run out of them as it is."

"So that's it? You're just going to gloss over it and forget about it?" she pressed.

"_No. _It's imperative for a leader to remember and learn from the mistakes even if they can't admit to them publicly. I will _not _repeat this one."

Laura almost smiled in response. The good man she remembered was still there after all.

"Why are you here any way? Don't you have anything better to do with your free time than push my buttons?"

Her urge to smile promptly vanished and was replaced by a sudden chill in her voice.

"Wally and I need a couple more days to negotiate with Representative Simmons—"

"And if Wally had come to me I would have told him no, so unless you have some compelling reason to offer that he doesn't, I'll tell you, no. I'm already up to my ears with requests for deadline extensions on half a dozen other projects. The Quorum is breathing down my neck as usual. I can't afford to give anyone more time. I don't care if you have to frak Wally and half the People's Council to get them to agree on something just get it done. Understand?"

"Yes, Mister President."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." He pointedly ignored her and stared at the list of names in his hands as if trying to memorize them.

She went to leave, but stopped and looked back when she heard him open one of his desk drawers. He had emptied it in short order and placed the list of names in it. In the silence, she heard a half-whispered _never again_ before he closed the drawer. For the briefest moment, she had wondered if she had made a mistake.

-xxx-

Another conference with Wally that went nowhere and an hour later, Laura closed her eyes in the quiet of her office and tried to will some kind of relaxation to calm her resurging doubts. _"Where is this going?" _It was still hard to believe that it was over. _"Going?" _After so long. _"What happens when you're not the President and I'm not the Secretary of Education?" _With his reelection, she had become acutely aware that time was running out. _"I don't know. I was thinking of getting a divorce."_ He'd stopped wearing his wedding ring, even in public, once he realized there was nothing left for him to lose. _"Richard, I'm serious, what happens?" _He was no longer safe. _"I suppose that depends on what you want. And I get the distinct impression that it isn't me." _

It was strange; they had parted ways almost as easily as if they had never been together at all. In the last few days, he had been unusually quiet, but today she'd seen a side of him that had been missing for years.

Ever since the incident with Zarek, he had been careful not to slip in front of the press and to keep his outbursts among the staff to a minimum. The self-control necessary to achieve that goal had come at a steadily increasing price. He had lost some of his charisma, a considerable amount of his passion, and a piece of his conscience, but the incident on Aerelon seemed to have affected him more than she'd guessed.

He probably would have made an effort to attend the funerals of those killed if he could, because that was the Richard she knew. Except that if he did so, in the eyes of press it would be an admission that he'd made a mistake and he was right, he couldn't afford the political damage that it would cause. It reminded her that even if they were no longer romantically involved he would still need her. Then there was the end of his presidency… It was still over four and half years away and a lot could change in all that time. The more she thought about it, the more she wavered.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she called, still slouched back in her chair, eyes closed.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" She finally straightened up at the sound of Richard's voice. He entered with visible caution and shut the door quietly behind him.

"No. No, I was just—" She sighed. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing. I wanted to apologize, for earlier." He tried to smile around his palpable discomfort. "I didn't mean—I'm sorry for what I said. The truth is I'm still getting used to this."

"So am I."

It was obvious in that way that his gaze wandered that he didn't want to leave yet, but likewise didn't know what else to say. He seemed to find the opening he wanted when his hazel eyes came to rest on the _Teacher of the Year _plaque that she kept on the corner of her desk.

"I still remember the day I gave this to you," he said. He moved to pick the plaque up. "The sun was shining so bright, I didn't quite know where to look. And I remember, I had to fight down this overwhelming urge to ask you out for dinner right then and there. I don't know how I managed it. Things were so different then. I was different…" He ran his fingers over the engraving. "What happened?"

"Politics. You wanted the presidency." _And you were willing to do whatever it took to get it._

"And I wanted you. I thought I could have both." He returned the plaque to her desk and finally looked at her. "I don't know what it was that changed your mind about me when we started all of this, so I don't expect an explanation for why it's over, but I want you to know, I don't regret any of it. If you ever change your mind again, well, you know where to find me." With that, he turned to leave.

"Richard," she called before he reached the door. He stopped with one hand on the doorknob, but he didn't look back. This was her best opportunity, she knew, to reverse the ending of their relationship, but she couldn't bring herself say the necessary words.

"I'm late for my meeting with Marcus," he said.

She allowed herself a momentary grimace of sympathy as she watched him go. She had only met Marcus once, but that was enough. He had all of Richard's faults, absolutely none of his charm, and a few other uniquely irritating characteristics, the least of which was that he had the swaggering arrogance she had come to associate with Colonial officers.

Alone again, she took a sip of water from the glass on her desk and slumped back into her chair, grateful that there was nothing very pressing left in her day that couldn't be put off. She didn't care that it meant she was going to have to spend her weekend locked in a room with Wally and Representative Simmons.

That evening she returned to the familiar comfort of her apartment, physically exhausted, but still thinking about Richard. The next few weeks would be the hardest and then as more time went by it would be easier, but right now she had to fight off the temptation to call his office. He was working late with Cathrin and Dominik tonight going over plans to address the chaos on Aerelon and fend off the deluge of negative press.

When dinner and a few glasses of wine failed to derail her thoughts of Richard, she got up from her couch and went into the bedroom to dig out her paint supplies and a blank canvas. She didn't know what she was going to paint, but it hardly mattered so long as it kept her away from the phone. As far as she was concerned, there was no going back now.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, reviews are welcome, as always. -SVR


	20. The Damage He Had Wrought

_2 Years before cylon attack  
William Adama age 62  
Location: Caprica Regional Space – Galactica Docked at Brimir Anchorage_

He wondered if they could see it, the gaping wound left behind by Zak's death. The sudden quiet followed by concerned looks when he passed them in the corridors made him think that they could. His grief enveloped him like a dark cloak. It was a persistent ache in his chest, a shortness of breath he hadn't felt since his crash landing on Leonis, and there was no escape.

He did whatever he could to take his mind off the pain. _Braddock takes first watch. _He turned a corner into an empty stretch of hallway._ Braddock takes first watch. _Down a ladder and past a crowd of enlisted crewmen. _Quincy checks the roster. _He passed the pilot's ready room and walked by a dimly familiar junior lieutenant who offered an academy perfect salute. _Quincy checks the roster._ He responded with an inattentive wave of his hand and tried to remember her name. _Val—something…_

-x-

The sun shone bright, but it provided little warmth this time of year. Not that he very much cared. The chill from the air had sunk into his body in the time it had taken him to walk from the shelter of the transfer station tent to the Raptor that waited for him on the airfield. A bright-eyed young pilot that reminded him vaguely of Nia Tikaru stood at attention on the Raptor's wing. She greeted him with a smile and a salute.

"My name's Lieutenant Sharon Valerii and I'll be your pilot back to _Galactica_," she said in that over formal way particular to new officers. "It's an honor to finally meet you, sir," she continued while he boarded the craft. The lieutenant was one of about a dozen new transfers _Galactica_ had received that he hadn't had the chance to review given the present circumstances.

Her copilot leaned to look back over his shoulder.

"Come on, Boomer," he called. "Let's not keep the commander waiting." Helo gave Adama a knowing smile and a nod of acknowledgement as Valerii paused to let Adama settle into the vacant ECO seat and then scrambled to get to her own.

"Sorry, sir," she replied to no one in particular and ran through her flight checklist.

The flight back to _Galactica_ was well over an hour and even though he was personally exhausted, the scarcely functioning part of him that was still a Colonial commander knew that his presence was making the lieutenant nervous, so he made an attempt at small talk.

"Where you from, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, I grew up with my foster parents in Ithaca, but I'm from Troy originally."

Adama had to fight down a sudden surge of emotion as memories flooded back of the _Zopyros _and his conversation years ago with President Kearney.

"Troy was a tragedy. My condolences."

"I was too young to really remember anything," she replied and they lapsed into an awkward silence for the remainder of the trip.

She was practically as green a pilot as they came and there was no small amount of coaching from Helo during her final approach to _Galactica_'sstarboard landing deck. When she finally touched the Raptor down it was with a jarring thud that had probably put a dent in the deck and had certainly made Adama wish he'd been strapped in_._ When his head stopped throbbing, he made a mental note to have Tigh check Valerii's flight record, and to leave orders with the CAG not to assign shuttle runs to frakking rooks when he was the one being shuttled.

-x-

_Valerii flies with Helo_. He made it down to the hangar deck as they were towing in the Raptor that had just touched down. _Valerii flies with Helo. _Adama spared a curt hello to Chief Tyrol and waited for the knuckledraggers to finish with their deck procedures. The Raptor had brought with it yet another new transfer.

Kara Thrace ducked through the half-open Raptor door, duffel bag slung across one shoulder. When she tried to hop down off the wing, she lost her balance and stumbled into her waiting commander. He caught a faint whiff of Ambrosia before she righted herself.

"Sorry." She flashed him an impish grin. "Sir."

He didn't care that she wasn't following procedure or that she was obviously intoxicated. Ever since the funeral he'd found military rituals and procedures to be empty and frankly, irritating, even though it was one of the few things he had left that kept him from falling completely apart. That it was nearly all he had left was precisely why he hated it.

"I'll show you to your quarters," he sighed.

"Nice ship you got here," she quipped as she followed him off the deck.

-x-

One of the advantages to being the commander of a half-derelict battlestar was that no one in the admiralty had bothered to object when he had turned _Galactica _toward the nearest available anchorage and taken a Raptor straight to Caprica upon receiving the news of Zak's death.

Lee had done what he always did when his younger brother was concerned and had taken care of things, this time by handling the funeral arrangements. It was just as well. It had left him free to meet with Zak's former flight instructor.

"Are you Lieutenant Thrace? I'm Commander Adama, I'm Zak's father."

He'd been fully prepared to use what little influence he had left in the Colonial Fleet in order to see to it that the lieutenant spent what was left of her career at a desk alphabetizing requisition forms.

"I know, sir. I'm sorry, sir, I was planning o n coming to see you tomorrow before the funeral."

He almost immediately changed his mind.

"You don't need to explain anything."

It didn't take him very long to see why Zak had taken such a strong liking to her.

-x-

"Gods. And here I thought _Triton_ was a sardine can." The other residents in the officer's quarters were all on midday duty running test flights with Captain Spencer. Kara tossed her duffel onto the only obviously unused bunk and glanced back at the doorway where Adama stood. "Let me guess, in the ad for this place they used the word 'cozy' didn't they?"

That managed to get a smile out of him, short lived though it was.

"You're probably tired from your trip, so we can go over your assignment tomorrow if you want to catch some rack time."

"Nah, I'm fine. I could really use another drink though."

Part of him worried. _The last thing I need is another Saul Tigh…_ And part of him sympathized. He hadn't exactly started his day sober and didn't plan on ending it that way either.

"I think I have some to spare."

Besides, he already knew what to expect.

-x-

"…So after Riley and I get thrown out of the officer's club we—we decide to head down to this ground-pounder bar, because we've got Karl with us and we figure if you got a guy that big, they're not going to take you on right?" Kara paused to pour more Ambrosia into her glass from the bottle they had on the table between them.

"Yeah," Adama scoffed, "right." He leaned back in his chair and watched the other patrons of Morrigan's from his spot in the corner while the lieutenant continued with her story.

"Well we walk in, just us three nuggets in a bar full of Marines, they probably figured we were there as a prank or on a dare or something, it happens."

He nodded in agreement.

"I'm all smiles and I tell 'em my mom served way back in the war and everything so it's cool. This sergeant, he comes up to me and I don't remember what he says, doesn't matter, he finishes with 'I think it's time for you to go home, princess.'"

He smiled at that.

"And I say, 'oh, is that a fact?' I move like I'm gonna hit the guy, but when he gets his hands up, at the last second I duck and pants him right in the middle of the bar! He tripped all over himself trying to get his pants back on and go after me at the same time—once the rest of 'em were done laughing, oh we ran outta there so fast..."

Adama finally laughed and Kara broke into a sudden fit of giggling.

The alcohol had done its work to cover up their grief, and the stories kept them even further distracted from it.

"Oh, it was great, it was great… I think I spent a week in the brig for that one."

When they had fallen quiet again, Adama filled the silence.

"Couple years after the war, _Galactica _was in dry dock for a big overhaul and I'd been temp assigned to _Atlantia. Atlantia _was shiny and new back then, and the frakkers permanently stationed there had the biggest frakkin' egos in the fleet."

"Ugh, they still do."

"Well, when I was there, the worst was this LSO, Captain Jonas Ratchet. Frakker thought he was hot shit because he'd graduated first in his class and had a girl on every Colony, or so he said. He was on duty for my thousandth landing and I figured I'd really stick it to the guy…"

Their conversation kept going past midnight until closing time and after they half-staggered into the chill, early morning air, they didn't say good night. Insomnia and sitting for several hours had made them restless, so they walked away from the bright lights at the edge of the Delphi Airbase toward Pilgrim Bay. There, the only illumination was from the perpetual twilight cast by the city lights behind them. They wandered for a while and when he was starting to feel tired, they found a place to sit and rest on a smooth rock plateau that overlooked the water. The stillness that settled over them was punctuated by the sound of gently lapping waves against the worn pebbles that lined the shore.

It was Kara who spoke this time.

"I still can't believe he's really gone." Adama could only see the faint outline of her face silhouetted against the distant city glow, but he didn't need to see her expression to understand what she was feeling. "Gods, I thought—I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him and now—" She took a shuddering breath. "I don't know what to do anymore. I just, I don't." He could hear the tears building in her voice. "Gods, I already miss—I miss him so much and I—" After that came a poorly stifled sob.

Despite not knowing how she might react, he reached out instinctively to put an arm around her. She nearly collapsed into his embrace and hugged him tightly. For a moment, he forgot about his own anguish and simply held her until he felt her start to pull away.

"I'm sorry," she said when he released her. "I didn't mean to, um, I'm not usually so—"

"It's okay."

"I don't know whether I've had too much to drink, or not enough," she said with a tired laugh.

"Situation like ours, I'd say the answer's both."

"Hm, yeah."

-x-

"Now _these_ are real quarters."

Ever since his divorce, home was a battlestar and so he had furnished it accordingly. Over the years, he had built up a small library of books that had long since overflowed the space available on his bookshelf and his appreciation for history had garnered him a diverse collection of artifacts.

"Is that a Montclair?" Kara moved to examine the painting above his couch while he poured a glass of Caprican Gold for each of them.

"An original. I got it as a promotion gift from my last commander."

"I always thought Montclair was a little overrated, especially once they started slapping his stuff on bumper stickers and the covers of bad novels, you know? I'm more of a Serreno fan myself."

"You're into art then?" He handed her her drink and gestured for her to sit.

"Uh, you could say that." She took a sip from her glass, smiled appreciatively then took a bigger swallow. "I've been known to paint, on occasion."

"Really?"

"I don't seem the type I know, but my dad, he uh had this artistic streak in him that I sort of inherited. He played piano. I paint."

"My father was a lawyer. The only thing I inherited was a lesson in how to argue with him. Seems like I did a helluva job in passing it along."

-x-

"You're late," snapped Lee.

"I had a long night."

He and Kara had stayed out almost until dawn and he'd barely had enough time to get back to his hotel room, clean up, eat something, and get to the cemetery for the memorial service. His whole body ached from a combination of dehydration and sleep deprivation and the bright morning sunlight only exacerbated the headache that left him squinting in an effort to attain some semblance of relief.

"That's just great. It's always some excuse with you, while I have to pick up the pieces. You can't ever take responsibility, can you? Do have any idea what mom has been doing the last hour waiting for you to—"

Before Lee could work himself up into a tirade, Kara interposed herself between them.

"Hey, Lee! Lay off all right. You wanna be mad at someone you can yell at me. It's my fault okay. We got to talking, had a few drinks—"

"No. Don't you dare defend him! You have _no idea_ what he has put this family through, that he can't even show up on time for his own son's—He's the reason we're all here in the first place, Zak never would have joined if he hadn't pushed him, so you can just stay the frak out of it!"

"Lee, son, this isn't the time…"

Adama's weak attempt at diffusing the situation before it turned into a fistfight between Lee and Kara nearly failed, but Lee's rage had rendered him momentarily speechless and a second later he shook his head, his voice cold.

"I'm done. I can't—I'm done." He turned to walk toward the small gathering of mourners behind him. "You can both go to hell for all I care."

-x-

"You know, what Lee said at the funeral about why Zak—he was wrong. Zak wasn't trying to impress anyone, he just wanted to fly, more than anything," offered Kara. "I'm sure after Lee's had some time to cool off he'll accept that…"

"Maybe," he said, even though in his heart, he knew better. Lee's anger hadn't been entirely without cause. Adama knew his family had suffered from his absence and from the demands of his service that had taken precedence over anything else. But it was too late to go back and change things, to undo the damage he had wrought. He could only look to the future.

Part of that future was sitting beside him.

He had been warned, by no less than _three_ commanders, that he shouldn't request Kara to transfer to _Galactica _because she was poorly disciplined and impossible to control. He had ignored them for the same reason that, at the funeral, he had reached over to hold her hand. She was lost and he thought that he could save her. He could save her like he always managed to keep saving Saul. He had to try. No one else was willing.

_Galactica _was a good ship. It was a _safe_ ship.

Kara had settled back into the couch with her feet up on the corner of a small table stacked with books and finished off her drink.

He thought she needed someplace safe.

"Permission to stay here, sir?" she asked.

He needed someone who made the pain of losing Zak easier to bear.

"Granted."


	21. Zero Hour

_Zero Hour has come:  
_

_From five seconds in the present  
__A door into the past,  
Where the clock is ticking…_

_Four footsteps to a dark beginning,  
The clock ticks down to three,  
Where the narrow road is splitting._

_Three chances to turn back the ending,  
The clock ticks down to two,  
Where the ripples, they are crossing._

_Two moments full of failing,  
The clock ticks down to one,  
Where power's in surrendering._

_One regret, for never saying,  
One silence, marks undoing,  
One more loss, but salvation gaining,_

_The clock ticks down to nothing.  
There is no escaping,  
As Apocalypse comes burning._

_All that has happened before, happens again.__  
The only hope is running,  
Toward the dream._

_The clock continues ticking…  
Thirty-three minutes,  
Mark._


	22. The Setting Sun

_Day of the Cylon Attacks__  
William Adama age 64 – Laura Roslin age 51  
Location: Galactica – Colonial One_

"I'll think about it. Madam President."

_Madam President_. For some reason the weight of that phrase had failed to sink in until Commander Adama had said it. Even though he had been hesitant, he had granted her legitimacy in those two words and, with his handshake, a certain measure of respect. Bargain struck, Laura wanted nothing more than to leave _Galactica_. It was too easy to get lost in the twisting corridors and being one of the few civilians in the midst of all the Colonial uniforms made her uncomfortable.

When she returned to _Colonial One, _Billy busied himself trying to set up an office that, so far, amounted to a table intended to be used as a desk. He also cleared out a small curtained off section to provide her some semblance of privacy. Then her new aide insisted in that quiet way of his that she take a moment for herself while he finished gathering updated passenger counts from the ships in the fleet. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't want a break. Time away from answering questions and giving orders simply encouraged her thoughts to drift to unpleasant places…

_I'm going to die. _

It was a litany that had followed her all day, ever since the doctor's visit. "_I'm afraid the tests are positive."_ It was with her through the attacks that had destroyed everything, through decisions of whether to stay or escape. _I'm going to die. _Through arguments with that stubborn commander and his even more stubborn executive officer. "_The war is over, and we lost." It's all over. I'm going to die._ And it was with her through her last conversation with Richard where she'd almost told him. _"Richard, I—"_ The rest wouldn't come. _I'm going to die._

He hadn't noticed and so got it wrong. _"I know,_ _you've been thinking this is a mistake for a while now."_ Even that had been wrong. She hadn't been thinking it. Not until the words that pulsed in her mind with every heartbeat had made everything as sharp as a razor's edge. So sharp that even the past took on a new clarity that had always been missing before.

Before, she hadn't seen any of it coming.

-x-

"I miss you."

Richard's blurted admission took her by surprise as she stood just inside the door to his office, about to leave. His words had the desired effect of stopping her.

"Laura."

She turned back to face him.

"I miss you," he repeated.

"I doubt that," she replied once the shock had worn off. "You haven't exactly spent the last three years by yourself."

"Neither have you. I'd wager that your list is longer than mine." He broke eye contact with her by stepping out from behind his desk. "I learned a long time ago that there's no replacing you." He moved toward her steadily, but with discernable caution as he spoke. "I think that, whether you want to admit it or not, you've learned the same thing about me."

She smiled in order to hide her unease about the direction in which the conversation was heading.

"You still don't understand why, do you?"

"I don't need to." He always had relied more on his instincts than anything else. She envied him that.

When he was close enough, he slid an arm around her waist and the fingers of his free hand traced a slow line down her back through the thin fabric of her blouse. She didn't protest.

"It may not be love, but we're a pair, and I'm _tired_ of waiting." He kissed her, gently at first. When she didn't push him away, he grew bolder. Their history together gave him an advantage, a kiss here, a touch there and already her heart was racing.

"Laura," he whispered, his breath warm against the side of her neck, "if you think is a mistake, tell me no and I'll stop."

It was a mistake. She knew it was. But there weren't enough reasons to prevent the press of his body against hers, the sensation of his lips on her skin, from reminding her of their first kiss, of the faint taste of whiskey and zivania from their first night together, of the way she used to worry about the lingering scent of his cologne…

"_Kept telling myself I was getting out, but..."_

She missed it all._ "He had this way about him." _She missed him.

So she didn't tell him no. She didn't want him to stop. And for nearly a year she didn't see that he'd changed. _"You expected me to fail."_ That by then, he was no longer the same man she remembered him to be. _"I expected you to hold the line." _She hadn't seen any of it until after she had found the lump, received the test results, and thought for the first time that she was going to die.

"_This doesn't have to be the end of the world." _

Except that it was, and the illusions had vanished as it ended.

It was over.

-x-

Laura allowed herself a moment to wonder what Richard would have done if she'd told him about the cancer when she'd had the chance. Would it have made any difference? She wanted to think so, but it felt like a lie. _It doesn't matter. He's gone now_.

"_This isn't about you and me anymore."_

Everything was gone now. Everything was gone and she was alone, with no one that she could trust with the knowledge of her cancer except for an aide that she had just met a little over a day ago.

What authority she had as President of the Colonies was tenuous at best even without the added complication of her illness. If Commander Adama knew that she was dying, he might change his mind and attempt to forcibly remove her from power. Lee, _Captain Apollo_, was her only other potential ally and she was uncertain as to where his loyalties lay. It was a shame. They both seemed—

"Madam President?" Billy poked his head in through the curtain. "I have that update on the survivor count ready."

"Thank you, Billy." She got up to follow him. "I've been thinking, we should have something permanent that we can use to keep track of the numbers…"

"Already taken care of." He gestured toward the corner of the ship he had arranged as a workspace. On the wall above her desk was a whiteboard. As she read the number, a new litany formed to take the place of the old one; _50,783 survivors_—

_Is it enough? _

-x-

Bill Adama secured the hatch to his quarters and crumpled the note in his hand. _There are only 12 Cylon models_. The information could be from any source, trustworthy or false and he had no way of telling which. _"You always keep me in front of you, military training right? Never turn your back on a stranger?" _Suspicion and distrust, it was no longer just a part of military life any more. When the secret got out that the Cylons looked human, it was going to be everyone's way of life.

He moved away from the hatch to relocate a pile of books on one of the tables. He had already reorganized his quarters once, after everything shifted in the wake of the nuclear strike, but he needed something relatively mindless to do. A little precision and order, to keep him functioning despite his fears. _Anyone could be a Cylon._

What if the Cylons didn't just have infiltrators, but could replace people? Celebrities like Dr. Baltar, and government officials like that frustrating Secretary of Education turned President of the Colonies, people who had verifiable histories, wouldn't necessarily be exempt from suspicion. If that was case, then even his own friends, or his family—

A book slid off the stack in his arms and dropped to the floor. He sighed, set the pile back onto his coffee table and bent down to retrieve the fallen volume. _If Lee had been replaced by a Cylon duplicate he'd probably be easier to deal with_ he thought as he remembered his son's painful hostility during their conversation this morning. _"Accidents happen…in the service." _It had been their first since the funeral. _"Zak _did not _belong in that plane! He shouldn't have been there, he—he was only doing it for you. Face it. You killed him."_

Bill gave up on relocating his books to ever less useful places and wandered over toward his rack where he caught sight of the framed picture that Tyrol's deck gang had given him. He didn't know how a copy of it had found its way into the Colonial Fleet Archives, but Tobias had taken it on Colonial Day, not during anything that Fleet Intelligence would have considered classified. _Frak, if they had known how often that kid had been wandering around with a camera, taking pictures after covert ops, keeping still shots from his gun camera footage… _

Adama smiled and cleared a corner on his desk where he could put the picture. It reminded him of a time when he had been certain of so much, of how he loved his family and flying, but mostly that the choices he'd made were the right ones. Bit by bit those choices had proven themselves failures. "S_ooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done."_

The evidence was in the desk drawer that held the commendation from the Cylon War that was supposed to have been the start of a glorious career. The collection of photos of wing mates and friends, all dead. The black and silver Colonial seal from an organization that hadn't kept the Colonies safe after all. The photos and the wedding ring from his marriage to the woman he loved that had ended in divorce.

"_How's your mother?"_

"_Getting married."_

He ran his thumb across the empty spot on his finger where his ring used to be. It was hard to think that Carolanne was dead. Their history together hadn't ended when he left. On the rare occasions that he had visited her and not just his sons, it had been hard for him not to act on his desires for everything to go back to the way things were before. A few times he'd slipped. _"I miss you." _But his first priority had always been the service and the Colonies. _"I'm a soldier Anne. It's all I know how to do." _She never forgave him for it. _"You miss everything."_ He had loved her anyway.

Bill reached, opened the drawer and retrieved the ring. He held the cold metal in his hand and then on impulse, put it back on. He didn't give himself a chance to rethink the gesture. Instead, he closed the drawer and went back to his rack with the intent to finally get some rest. No sooner than he started to unbutton his jacket, _Galactica_ went on alert.

"_Action stations, actions stations. This is not a drill." _

He turned and headed for the hatch.

"Sitrep!" he demanded the moment he crossed the threshold into the CIC.

"Cylons found us," replied Tigh. "Raiders are inbound, fifty plus. Alert Vipers are away and Fleet's commencing an emergency jump, but not all of the civvies had their drives spun up, so we're sitting ducks until they get their heads outta their asses."

Adama tried to ignore the frenzied transmissions over the wireless from the Viper squadron as they engaged the enemy. It sounded like a bloodbath.

"Colonel, when we're on the other side I want standing orders put in place that all ships are to keep their drives spun up indefinitely. Tell them, anyone who violates those orders will be left behind."

"Civvie ships weren't designed to run hot like that. It's gonna wear them down fast. If one of 'em blows a drive during an attack…"

"No choice. Not until we know what kind of interval we're looking at."

"We don't even know if the Cylons'll find us again—"

"They'll find us and I'm not gonna use our pilots to buy time if I don't have to." _Rather start running out of ships than pilots… _Adama glanced back over his shoulder. "Dee!"

"Last civilian ship is away, sir."

"Recover fighters. Standby to execute jump."

"All fighters aboard, sir."

"Execute jump."

Adama tensed at the momentary feeling of disorientation induced as _Galactica _shifted in and out of the jump.

"Report."

"All ships present and accounted for, sir."

Tigh was already relaying Adama's orders for the fleet to Dualla.

Bill watched the Dradis screen above him and counted the green icons just to be sure. He kept an eye on the screen until he was satisfied that the Cylons weren't going to immediately reappear.

"Mister Gaeta, start a count. I want to know how long it takes for them to find us."

"Yes, sir. Clock is running."

Tigh frowned from across the command table. "I hope you're wrong about this Bill."

"So do I."

"Commander? I have the president on the line. She wants to speak with you."

He nodded and picked up the nearest phone.

"Madam President."

"The Cylons, how did they find us?"

She went right to the point. He liked that.

"I don't know, but now that they have, I don't think we have much time."

"This order, to keep our FTLs ready, isn't that dangerous to keep up for long?"

"Yes, it is, but now that the Cylons can find us they're gonna to try and run us down and they're gonna keep coming until one side makes a mistake."

"And if we're the ones who make the mistake, then—"

"We all die."

"All right then, Commander, we are in your hands, but I expect to be kept informed as to the situation. And also, I want to make it perfectly clear, we will not leave anyone behind, is that understood?"

His jaw clenched momentarily before he answered.

"Understood, Madam President."

"Thank you. That will be all."

Bill returned the phone to its cradle and looked over at Tigh.

"She is gonna be a pain in the ass," intoned the Colonel.

"Yeah," he sighed, "but with her keeping the civvies in line we might not all die after all. Let's get to work."

* * *

AN: Reviews welcome as always. Thanks for reading. -SVR


	23. In The Space Between

_In the space between every 33 minutes:_

**Are you there?**

_Getting slower. Maybe this time.__  
Not this time. Maybe the next.  
__How did we lose 300? Is this my 10 minutes?  
Not many of us left. Carry on.  
Next crisis. Them or us.  
Subtract how many? You can add one._

**Yeah, I'm here.**


	24. The New Era

_12 Days After Cylon Attacks_  
_Coordinates Unknown_

"_I have two conditions before I release my captives. First, the government which controls our fate is illegal and illegitimate, and it must submit to the will of the people. I demand the immediate resignation of Laura Roslin and her ministers. Second, I demand free and open elections to choose a new leadership and a new government that represents all of the people._

"_These demands are made not for me or for the former slaves held o n this ship, but for you, the people, the survivors of the holocaust and the children of humanity's future. I am Tom Zarek, and this is the first day of the new era."_

-xxx-

"When are you going in?" demanded Roslin.

"I assumed you were gonna talk to him first."

_You assumed wrong. _"We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"I said _talk_."

"There's nothing to talk about. What he wants, I can't give him."

"We're not ready yet. Talking to Zarek gives us a little more time."

"That's what he wants, he wants legitimacy. He wants to be recognized. He wants his crimes validated. I watched President Adar offer him a full pardon if he'd apologize and give up violence as a means of political change. He refused."

She could still remember Zarek's veiled contempt, his sneer-laden reply. _"Thank you for the offer, but I must respectfully decline._ _I trust my refusal will have no bearing on my parole hearing." _

She told Adama, "No commitments, no deals," and resisted the urge to add; _I don't care what you do, just get our people out alive._

"I'll let you know what happens," he said.

She sighed, clicked the wireless receiver off and tried to reassure herself. _Billy is going to be fine._ Adama would take care of it. _Lee will be fine. They'll all be—_

"I came at a bad time, didn't I?"

Laura mustered a thin smile at the sight of Wally Gray standing in the doorway. He had been on vacation, on _Cloud Nine_ with his wife and son, when the Cylons attacked. The ship had recently been evacuated and was under repairs, so Wally had finally taken a shuttle to _Colonial One_.

"It's all right." She gestured to the empty chair in front of her desk. "If it isn't the Cylons, it's a problem in the Fleet and if it isn't that…" _It's the cancer_.

"A President's work is never done," he said as he came in and sat down. He slouched back into his chair, trying to look relaxed, but she could see it in his eyes, the anxiety, the unease and she knew that it probably had nothing to do with the water crisis or Tom Zarek. It had everything to do with why he was in her makeshift office.

By virtue of a special advisory position to the President of the Colonies in addition to his cabinet duties as Director of Budget Management, Wallace Gray had been thirty-seventh in the line of succession.

He should be sitting where she was.

There were any number of reasons why he'd been skipped. A power outage, jammed wireless, time delay…

"Wally, you're the highest ranking government official that we have left—"

He cut her off before she could voice the implications of that fact.

"You were sworn in. I wasn't. If you want my support, Madam President, then you have it. Beyond that…" He sighed. "You should know that right now, government official or not, my only concern is for my family."

"Be that as it may, you have valuable skills that this fleet needs in order to survive." Her tone made it clear that he shouldn't argue with that assessment. "Managing the distribution of supplies is a crucial task and it's perfect for someone with your gift for logistics. I need someone who I know will be fair, who I can trust. There aren't many candidates Wally."

He was the only candidate and he knew it.

"Can my family stay with me on _Colonial One, _until the repairs on _Cloud Nine_ are finished?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Then I'm your man."

"Good. I'll have—" She caught herself before she said Billy's name. "I'll have one of my aides forward you the necessary information in the morning. Thank you, Wally."

He nodded and stood up. "It's good to see you, Laura."

"You too."

As Wally left her office, she had to fight down another rush of worry over the situation on the _Astral Queen_. She hadn't realized until now just how much she had come to rely on Billy. The way he hovered about, always ready to take care of the details of whatever job that needed doing. _He'll be fine. _

She was about to ask for an update when one of the other aides whose name she hadn't learned yet passed her a note.

_Recovery underway. Will report to _Colonial One_ when complete. –Adama_

-x-

Bill only half listened to the launch chatter from the Raptor team while they departed on their mission to board the _Astral Queen_ and neutralize Tom Zarek.

_Tom Zarek._ He had hoped never to hear that name again. Even after twenty years and the end of everything, Zarek was still finding ways to wreak havoc, but this time it wasn't Marine units or squad mates whose lives were at stake. It was Lee. It was his son that was the bait for this trap and he needed more time. Time that Roslin hadn't been willing to give and that Zarek had refused to provide, time to figure out what the trap was. _Because when it's Zarek, there's always a trap and there's never enough time._

Adama had learned that lesson long ago when the SFM had hijacked a passenger transport just weeks before the Labor Ministry bombing. Zarek's statement of intent had been much more concise in those days. _"This vessel and its passengers are mine. I am Tom Zarek, and Sagittaron will be free." _The military response had been swift after the transport had veered off its normal departure vector and toward the heart of Sagittaron City. _"Zeus of Fourteen Bravo moving to intercept, ETA one minute." _

While the memory continued to intrude on his thoughts, Bill watched the Dradis readouts above him. _Galactica's_ Raptors had closed in on the _Astral Queen _and their transponder reports had merged.

"_Galactica, Raptor One, rendezvous successful. Soft seal pressurized."_

Catching up to Zarek had never been a problem. _"Ground Actual, Zeus. Target is in sight and refusing all orders to return to safe vector." _He had always invited his enemies to pursue him. _"Target is spinning up his FTL! Request instruction!" _Tried not to give them a chance to react. _"Zeus, Ground Actual you are ordered weapons free. Use any means necessary to prevent Zarek's escape." _It was how he got them to make mistakes…

Starbuck's voiced snapped Adama's focus back fully into the present.

"_Alpha One, we're in." _

Now Bill strained to hear what was happening, to piece together the situation from secondhand information. More than ever, he hated being forced to listen while others acted. Relying on wireless communication as the basis for command decisions was potentially treacherous. _Last time it had been the trap._

Sudden silence over the speakers made him glance over at Gaeta. There was no sign from the lieutenant that the transmission had cut out. Starbuck's team must have frozen in reaction to something.

Amid the low level static, he heard the unmistakable pop of distant gunfire.

"_They're killing the hostages, let's go."_

Adama's hands gripped the edge of the console in front of him. _If Lee's been hurt… _He barely registered the chatter from the other teams while he waited for Kara's sitrep.

"_All teams, sniper in position. Galactica, Alpha One, I've spotted one injured hostage in one of the cells—I think it's Cally—and there's an armed prisoner in the cell with her looking really pissed off. No joy on the other hostages. One of the guards is armed and moving freely. Lee's—" _

Before she could finish three more gunshots echoed in background of the transmission and Adama heard her whisper,_ "Lee got the guard's gun, we have a prisoner down. He's got another at gunpoint—Looks like our target. Come on, Lee, take out the son of a bitch—_

"Alpha One, what's your line of sight?"

"_Partial only. Lee's got him and he hasn't fired—" _

"Can you make the shot anyway?"

"_What are you doing, Lee? What are you doing? Come on." _

"Starbuck! Can you make the shot?"

"_No. Lee's in the_ frakking_ way. Wait—LoS is clearing, the prisoners are lowering their weapons. I think they're surrendering. Request instruction." _

Bill didn't want to make a martyr out of Zarek, but the man was too dangerous to be left alive, he had been then, he still was now.

"You get the shot, you take it," replied Adama. Use any means necessary. _No matter the cost. _The same decision as before.

"_Gotcha."_

The sound of the shot came moments later and so did the shouts for a cease fire.

"_All teams, hold positions. Frak." _Starbuck sighed._ "Lee pulled him out of the way. I missed."_

Adama resisted the urge to slam his fist into something.

"Find the rest of the hostages, get them out. When the ship is secure, tell Lee to report to _Colonial_ _One _immediately." Bill shared a dark look with Saul across the command table. "Colonel Tigh, I want a Raptor prepped for launch and inform President Roslin that I'm on my way."

He didn't wait for Tigh to acknowledge the order. Instead, Adama stormed out of CIC toward the hangar deck. He spent the trip to _Colonial One_ with the memory of the disastrous SFM hijacking and its terrible consequences fresh in his mind.

"_Zeus, Ground Actual you are ordered weapons free. Use any means necessary to prevent Zarek's escape." _

There had been three hundred civilians aboard the transport, but Adama's superior officers had insisted that the loss was acceptable if it meant stopping Zarek. Upon that, everything had hinged. _"Wilco, Zeus, weapons free. Firing warning burst."_ And in that, they had been wrong. _"FRAK! The transport—it's been destroyed!" _

A bomb had denoted moments after the warning shot had been fired and Zarek's trap had been sprung.

Despite the voice confirmation and origin of the signal, Zarek had never been on board the transport. The SFM cell that had been deployed to hijack and blow up the Colonial Light had been one of Zarek's last and they had carried with them a recording of his taunting proclamation. _"This vessel and its passengers are mine. I am Tom Zarek, and Sagittaron will be free." _

His trick had worked.

The media and the conspiracy theorists blamed an overzealous military instead of the SFM. The military tried to pass it off as a tragic disaster. And since Zarek had been tentatively presumed dead, he got just enough breathing room to pull off his next desperate act. Three weeks after the hijacking, he issued a brazen call for a press conference in front of the Sagittaron Labor Ministry and denoted his last bomb.

Even locked away Zarek hadn't entirely ceased to be a threat; he would never cease to be a threat. That Lee didn't seem to understand that simple fact was apparent during his debriefing on _Colonial One_ and Adama didn't hesitate to express his disapproval.

"It's unacceptable."

"It's done," replied Lee with an undertone of finality that bordered on defiance. "The prisoners have full control of the _Astral Queen_."

Bill turned away from his son in an effort to stifle his frustration, but also because the way that Lee was standing there, so ramrod straight, it made Adama's back hurt just to look at him.

"We evac'ed all the guards and support personnel. It's their ship."

"They're a threat to the entire fleet." That much should have been obvious, even to Lee.

"They've been disarmed. The ship itself has no weapons."

"The ship itself is a weapon!" snapped Adama. A vessel the size of the _Astral Queen _could undermine the safety of a battlestar even as well armored as _Galactica,_ not to mention what it could do to the other ships in the fleet.

"They're totally dependent on us for food, fuel, and they've agreed to organize the workforce for the water detail on the moon."

"You've committed me to holding elections within the year," interjected Roslin.

"Madam President, with respect, you're serving out the remainder of President Adar's term. When that term is up in seven months, the law says there's an election. I only committed you to obeying the law."

"You sound like some kind of a lawyer—" Using technicalities and loopholes as a shield.

"I swore an oath," Lee replied, "to defend the articles. The articles say there's an election in seven months. Now, if you're telling me we're throwing out the law, then I'm not a Captain, you're not a Commander and you are not the President. And I don't owe either of you a damned explanation for anything."

Adama moved from his isolated spot near the window fully intending to give Lee a thorough dressing down for his insubordinate remarks, but the look on Lee's bruised face made Bill's resolve falter. Then he saw it, Zarek's trap. Lee hadn't just been bait; he had been the goal, to drive a wedge into the leadership. It nearly worked,but Lee had proven himself more than a mere pawn.

"He's your son," said Roslin.

That he was. Proud, stubborn and angry.

"He's your adviser," countered Adama.

More than willing to stand up to both of them.

"An election…" Her expression was thoughtful, and Bill could see that she had been swayed by Lee's appeal to duty and the rule of law. There was no sense in pushing the issue any further.

"I guess you finally picked your side," said Bill. And it wasn't his or the president's or Tom Zarek's. Lee had picked the side of his own ideals and all of them were going to have to live with the consequences.

Adama spared Roslin a parting acknowledgment on his way out and headed toward _Colonial One's _transport bay.

-xxx-

After the commander departed, Lee remained in Roslin's office in order to complete a written report before taking a shuttle back to _Galactica_. Laura excused herself from the room saying that she wanted to take a break before the next crisis hit. The truth was that she was exhausted. She didn't know if it was all the recent disasters or the cancer or both, all she knew was that the only thing that had kept her going for most of the afternoon had been her worry over Billy.

Once she knew that he and the rest of the hostages were safe her body had decided that it was done. She'd had to lean on the back of her chair just to stay standing during Lee's debriefing. Now in the quiet of her quarters, only sheer force of will helped her change out of her clothes into her comfortable pajamas and as soon as she lay down on the couch that served as a makeshift bed, Laura wasn't sure if she'd be able to get back up again.

Even though her body refused to anything useful, her mind was still caught up in a swirl of thoughts. What if Wally had been chosen as president instead? What if something had gone wrong during the assault on the _Astral Queen?_ What if the cancer made her tired like this all the time? What if Billy or Zarek had ended up dead? What if Adama found out she was sick—

Laura tried to stifle the inner chatter by picking up the copy of _Dark Day_ that she'd left on a nearby table. It may be the end of everything, but there was still time to read. She fingered past the first few chapters trying to where she'd left off.

The pages carried the faint scent of aged paper, leather and traces of cigar smoke, a distinct blend that brought to mind Commander Adama's quarters. When she had visited those quarters for the first time during the water crisis she had expected to find an austere space, not a scholar's den overflowing with antiques, pictures, maps and books. It had been a surprise, like when Lee had told her that all the pomp and protocol had been a gesture of respect, and yet it fit him all the same.

Laura put a stop to further errant thoughts, sighed and found her place in the novel, finally letting her thoughts settle into the words in front of her.

-xxx-

_...He spotted the body of the third victim by the reflected glare of his flashlight on her white dress. He found her just off the main path on the north side of Cap City Park. Dark hair with a pale face like porcelain, sprawled in the slick grass as if she had fallen asleep under the trees and might wake at any moment. A jagged red line across her neck made that wish a lie. The rain had washed away all the blood and the evidence with it, except for a note clutched in her hand. _

_He pulled the soaked paper from between her fingers and as he read it, he could almost hear the killer's laughter in the wet dark around him. __I spared her the pain of love untrue. Fear not. I'll join her soon—_

Laura lowered the book, pulled off her glasses and tried to rub away a sudden pulse of tension in her forehead. Before she could return to the story, she heard a faint a knock from the doorway. _It might be Billy_, she thought and pulled herself up from bed. When she pulled back the curtain, however, she was surprised to find Lee.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, "I can come back."

"No, it's all right. Um, come on in." Now that she was already up, might as well indulge him.

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I head back to _Galactica_. And to tell you…I hope you understand, I wasn't being disloyal, Madam President."

"I understand. You're upholding the law. I admire it."

"I believe in you," he continued. "In what you're doing, and for what it's worth, seven months from now, you'll have my vote."

She meant to say thank you, but the words wouldn't come. He went to leave, but she stopped him.

"Could you sit?" She nodded to herself; it was time. He'd stood by her from the beginning. He deserved to know.

When they were both sitting, she took a preparatory breath. "There's something I need to tell you. The truth is I might not be here in seven months."

"Are you planning a vacation?"

"I wish." Her strained smile passed quickly. "I told your father that I…" she cleared her throat and forced herself to continue, "had allergies, but I have cancer. I found out the morning of the attack."

Laura picked up a nearby glass of water and took a sip to clear the knot in her throat, but it did nothing to distract her from his reaction, the way his face fell and his whole body tensed in the space of a few blinks.

"I'm so sorry, Madam President. I don't know what to say."

"I understand." No one ever knew what to say. "I'm going to fight this, but there is a great need for secrecy."_ I can't afford to trust very many people._

"Of course."

"Whether or not I survive this illness, it is of great importance to me that there's a future for the people and I fear that knowledge of my illness will erode hope."_ You can't tell your father. Not yet._ "So this has to stay between you and me."

"You can count on me."

"I know I can." Her smile was genuine this time. "You're Captain Apollo."

* * *

AN: So that chapter took forever...no idea why, but it was the hardest to write in my life. Story's not over yet. It will be sooner or later. Many thanks to all who have been kind enough to read. -SVR


	25. Guilt & Grief

_14 Days After Cylon Attack  
__Coordinates Unknown_

It had all happened so fast.

One moment they were laughing and smiling, on their way to a celebration, Starbuck telling stories. _"So, the commander ever tell you what happened on his thousandth landing?" _The next they were running toward the blare of alarms. "_Attention: Fire on the port hanger deck."_ And preparing for a funeral. "_Uniforms for the services will be dress grays."_

While hollow words of faith echoed in his ears, he remembered all the memorials that had come before. "_The burdens of this life are with us but a short time._" The difficult conversations followed after. _"I need new pilots and I want you to train them." _With confessions of betrayal trailing, unexpected, in their wake. _"Zak... failed basic flight."_ Then the Cylons found them. _"Holy frak, we've got incoming!" _And in a moment, she was gone.

"_No I.D. or visual on Starbuck." _She was gone._  
_

It had all happened so fast, but the search…the search wasn't fast enough.

It was small strips of color on the grid map of a desolate moon after forty hours of pilots squinting through polished canopies. It was pulling the CAP and every capable civilian ship, watching as tylium reserves plummeted. And through every sleepless hour, every minute, every second, Bill waited for a transmission over the wireless saying that they'd found her. But every hour, every minute, every second, there was nothing.

Nothing, while fury and desperation coiled together, a twisting, searing knot in his chest.

Nothing, while they ran out of ships, fuel and time.

"Blue flight reports bingo fuel, sir."

Still nothing.

"Have them stay on the search. Send the tanker to them," replied Adama, his eyes fixed on the clock as the final seconds slipped away. When his tactical officer didn't respond he asked, "Is there a problem, mister Gaeta?"

"It's just that trying to tank in that turbulence, sir, will be extremely hairy. I suggest we wait until the clock has run down…then tank them up on the way back to _Galactica_."

"Did someone call them back to_ Galactica_?"

"Um, I just assumed—"

"The search was over?" He couldn't stop.

"That it was hopeless?" Not until she was found.

"That we should write Starbuck off as dead?" Jump away and leave her behind. "Is that what you're telling me, mister Gaeta?"

"No, sir."

"Then what are you trying to tell me, mister Gaeta?"

The clock ticked down to nothing. It didn't matter. He'd made a promise.

"You have your orders."

He had to save her. Even after everything that she'd done.

He had to bring her home. Even if it was only in pieces.

-xxx-

"_Until I say stop." _Those were the words that Laura had hoped she wouldn't hear.

Now that he'd said them, she knew what had to happen next, but she dreaded it all the same.

"Prepare a shuttle to the _Galactica._"

She had seen this coming over the course of the last forty-seven hours as Lee and Commander Adama continued their search for their missing pilot despite the mounting dangers. She sympathized, she had made the same mistake that they were making. In her first act as President of the Colonies, she had chosen to stay with a ship while the Cylons threatened to destroy them. _"We're not going to abandon all these people."_ She had made that mistake before she understood the reality of what humanity was facing. "_If we stay…" _The possibility of annihilation changed everything.

Someone was going to have to tell them to stop.

That was the first question Colonel Tigh asked when she stepped off the shuttle.

"I came here to talk," she answered him. "Not to give orders."

"It may take an order."

"Why?" When he didn't respond, she brought him to a halt. "Colonel Tigh, do I need to know something?"

"It's gone beyond military needs. It's personal. For the Commander and for Lee too." She had realized that much already.

"Because of Lieutenant Thrace?" Laura resumed their walk toward Adama's quarters.

"Because of her," he admitted, "and because of Zak Adama."

"The commander's dead son…"

"It's complicated. It would take about three weeks to explain."

"We've got about three minutes, talk fast."

"Kara and Zak were engaged and ever since the funeral, she's been stationed here. As far as Lee and the Old Man are concerned, Starbuck's family."

"I think I understand, Colonel." There was more to it, certainly, but it wasn't that difficult to fill in the blanks. "Thank you."

She paused just long enough to take a deep breath before stepping through the open hatch.

"President Roslin," announced Tigh.

"Madam President."

"Skip the formalities, you both know why I'm here." And they were both going to hate her for what she was about to do, but it had to be done. Like the ships she had ordered left behind. Like the Olympic Carrier that she had ordered destroyed. It had to be done for the good of the fleet.

"Termination of a pilot's rescue mission is a military decision." Adama's voice was steady, calm. His entire demeanor was that of tightly controlled stoicism, stoicism that Lee was plainly struggling to match.

She was going to have to press.

"That's a bunch of crap. This isn't military, it's personal. Neither of you can let go of Kara Thrace because she's your last link to Zak."

"You don't know anything about my brother—"

"Don't even begin, Captain. You've lost perspective." _What was it you said?_ _We're talking about the survival of our race. _She glanced at Adama. "As have you.

"Under normal circumstances it would just be sad that the two of you can't come to terms with Zak's death. In this situation, you're putting your pilots at risk and you're exposing the entire fleet to possible attack every moment we stay here."_ We don't have the luxury of taking risks and hoping for the best, because if we lose, we lose everything. _

"We've been at risk of an attack since day one," countered Adama. "The Cylons won't be missing the patrol for at least o ne more day."

A guess. He used to prefer facts. Facts were better than rationalizations.

"Colonel Tigh, how much aviation fuel has been expended in this operation?"

"Forty-three percent of reserves." Fact.

"Almost half. That's unacceptable. And operations in the moon's atmosphere have put one third of your fighters out of action." Fact. "That is also completely unacceptable."

"Crap 'unacceptable'," he retorted. "Whatever it is you feel about this, the recovery of one pilot is a military matter."

The venom in his reply warned her, if she ordered him to stop, he was just going to say no, out of sheer obstinacy if nothing else. She opted for one last appeal to his conscience and to Lee's as well.

"All right... it's military, fine. And you're both officers and you're both honorable men and you're both perfectly aware that you are putting the lives of over forty five thousand people and the future of this civilization at risk, for your personal feelings." Adama broke eye contact with a downward glance. She was right and he knew it. "Now, if the two of you, of all people, can live with that, then the human race doesn't stand a chance. Clear your heads." _If you don't let go, we'll never survive. _

Colonel Tigh followed her out of the room and walked beside her through the corridors. Thankfully, the commander's quarters weren't far from CIC otherwise her memory of the path between the two locations might not have been enough to keep her from getting lost.

"Before anything else, Bill's a soldier," assured Tigh. "He'll call it off."

"I hope so, Colonel, but you won't mind if I stick around to make sure."

"Course not. Madam President."

-xxx-

Commander Adama's expression was still a mask of detachment as he gave the order to start the clock, but Laura could hear the difference in the quiet way that he spoke, his words drained of emotion. It was how she had sounded after decisions to sacrifice lives.

"Madam President, would you like to return to your ship?" he asked.

"Thank you, I'll stay here. I'd like to see how the professionals do it." Taking time to return to _Colonial One _would only delay the jump. Best to have it over and done.

"As you wish." He turned away and paused to look up at the Dradis readouts one last time. "Execute jump, Lieutenant Gaeta."

"Aye, sir. Jump clock is running. Navigation?"

"Go!"

"F.T.L.?"

"Go!"

"Tactical?"

"Go!"

"Flight Ops?"

A warning noise went off.

"Contact! Dradis contact. Incoming, bearing zero-six-zero carom three-zero-eight."

Laura's gaze leapt to the Dradis screens while they strove to identify the cluster of pixels that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. _Cylon raider._

_They found us. _

"He's on an intercept course. He'll be on us before we complete the jump, sir."

"Action stations, launch Vipers."

Roslin struggled to keep track of everything that was going on around her as the alarms sounded and the crew scrambled to respond to the impending threat.

"Action stations, action stations. Launch the Alert fighters, Raider approaching."

"Gun captains report weapons manned and ready."

"Where the hell are the Vipers?"

"Most are being fueled. Hotdog and Apollo are in the tubes."

"Why only one this time?" she asked when the screens didn't immediately begin to fill up with red.

"Could be a lone recon mission," replied Tigh. "Or the vanguard for a base ship about to jump on top of us."

"Either way," continued the commander, "we're gonna have to take it out before we can jump."

The main speakers crackled with noise and then finally picked up on an incoming transmission.

_"_Galactica, _Apollo. Target in sight."_

He was out there alone and Roslin felt a familiar sinking sensation of worry creeping back into her awareness. She knew that he was a more than capable pilot and that he'd taken on a Cylon raider by himself not so very long ago.

_"Lords, this bastard's good." _

He had also been nearly killed several times already as well.

"They're closing fast. Port guns have a firing solution."

_"Hold still, you little—" _

The last time it was Kara Thrace who had come to Captain Apollo's rescue, but she wasn't going to be there to save him anymore if something went wrong.

_"What the? I've lost him! Galactica, I repeat: he is nowhere to be seen."_

"Dradis?"

Roslin suddenly wondered how Adama did it.

"No help, their reports have merged."

How he sent his pilots out to face a methodically brutal adversary whose success was favored by the simple mathematics of attrition.

"Launch tube status?"

How he sent his family, his son, out into the infinite black where death was everywhere.

"Still fouled. We'll have a Viper away in forty-five seconds."

"This'll be over in forty-five seconds."

She had left people to die, but to her they had been at best numbers and hope. Not friends. Not family. She hadn't really had either left to lose when the Cylons attacked, but now—

_"Holy…_Galactica_, the Cylon is now flying in formation with me, right above my head. This thing is acting weird."_

"Put me through." By the time Adama picked up the nearest phone there was another burst of noise over the wireless.

_"HA HAAA! It's Starbuck!"_

"What? Come again, Apollo." How could it be?

_"_Galactica, _the Raider is marked "Starbuck"! It's written under the frakkin' wing!"_

Laura smiled and had to fight back tears of relief as the crew around her applauded and cheered. Kara Thrace was alive. Impossible, but..._let it be true. _Let hope be made be real._ Just this once._

"Bring it into the bay! If it does anything, take it out!"

Their lost pilot had rescued herself.

"_Wilco, _Galactica_, but I tell you what: it's has got to be her. This thing is flying with some serious attitude."_

It was a miracle, at least that was the phrase that the president would have used if she believed in that sort of thing. A miracle was the only phrase that she could use. There were no other words for what had just happened. She tried to find them anyway.

"Commander Adama," she said, hoping to catch his attention.

He dropped his gaze reluctantly from the screens overhead. "Commander, I want you know; I've never been happier to be wrong."

It came as a surprise when he contradicted her yet again.

"You were still right, Madam President. We got lucky this time, that's all." He looked as if he had more to say, but one of the officers called out with the information he'd been waiting to hear.

"Flight deck is secure and confirmation has been received that in addition to Apollo we now have aboard Lieutenant Kara Thrace and one Cylon Raider, sir."

"Very well," he replied. "Resume jump count."

-xxx-

After they completed the jump and all ships were accounted for, Bill excused himself from CIC. Eventually he ended up in sickbay, separated from Kara by a few empty beds and curtains, still struggling to sort out the mixture of emotions that had been coursing through him since she had admitted that she was responsible for Zak's death. "_You did it because you were engaged." _Part of him knew that it wasn't all her fault. "_Because I made a mistake." _It was his too_.__ "One of us wouldn't have even have made it into flight school if his old man, his daddy, hadn't pulled the strings!" _And yet the rage was still there. It had fueled two days of searching without sleep and little food and was still there, a tightness in his chest, squeezing everything else out.

That was, until he saw her.

Kara was in bed, eyes half closed under the harsh fluorescents of sickbay, one of her legs braced and wrapped in an air cast. Two days ago she had left him nearly in tears and thrown herself in the path of eight Cylon raiders. Now she was here because of her guilt and his grief, with a knee injury Cottle had colorfully described as "like a smashed melon" and the distinct possibility ahead of her that she might never fly Vipers again.

Despite everything, he realized, she was still family. That hadn't changed. And it meant that it was up to him to mend what he could.

"How you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Been a hell of a lot worse. Don't have any ambrosia, but the doc can fix you up with some really nice stuff." Her attempt at humor faded fast. "It's not bad, is it? The knee?"

"Doc says it's too early to tell, but knowing you, you'll be fine." The look on her face told him that she knew he was lying.

"Kara..." It was time to let go.

"Yeah."

He brushed her hair back with one hand. "You did good," he assured her and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. "You did real good."

By the time he pulled back the pressure in his chest had finally eased and when he exhaled it vanished completely. She was alive, he could forgive, that was enough.

"Need anything?"

"A stogie would be nice."

"I had a feeling." That was a bit of a lie of course, but he had one with him all the same. She smiled and even let out a small giggle while he handed it over.

"My last one," he said with a smile of his own, "so enjoy." That part was true. He'd been saving it in hopes of a victory after so many recent disasters. Having her back was as good a victory as any as far as he was concerned.

"Thank you."

"Get some rest." He gave her hand a small squeeze before he left and went in search of his quarters for some much needed sleep.


	26. By The End of The Day

_24 Days After Cylon Attack  
Coordinates Unknown_

She moved through the empty corridor ahead with the halting steps of someone who was lost. Everything looked the same. The walls had the same repeating columns, the same evenly spaced incandescent lights that cast an amber glow over the same stretches of red carpet. When she came to a junction, where the only options were to go left or right, she didn't know which one to choose.

It didn't matter.

She wandered to the end of one corridor only to continue down another and another. All the same. And all the while she had the distinct feeling that she should already know where to go, that this place was somehow familiar to her, that she had been here before.

It was all wrong.

The walls of the corridor should have been metal, along with the floor, and the lights cold fluorescents that bathed everything in a blue tinge. And the heavy double doors that had appeared in front of her should have been a hatch with a seal. The inconsistencies didn't seem important now that she'd the found the doors. She opened them and stepped through, squinting in the bright lights beyond, barely able to make out the silhouette of a man in the center of a vast round hall.

His back was to her, but she knew him. She missed him…

"Madam President. Madam President?"

Laura woke with a start and sat up from her slouched position in one of _Colonial One's_ padded seats. She didn't remember dozing off.

"Yes? What?"

"Uh, Wallace Gray is here," said Billy. "He's waiting in your office."

"Right. Right." Wally had scheduled a mid-morning meeting to review the fleet's rationing system. "Ah, I'll be just a moment. Thank you."

Her aide lingered in the doorway. "Madam President, are you—?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Just a little tired today." When he continued to hesitate she pointedly dismissed him. "Thank you. Billy." He nodded and left.

Alone again, she got up and took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her mind. The vivid dreams she was having of late she attributed to stress, but the persistent fatigue could not be dismissed so easily. The only thing that seemed to help was the chamalla that Doctor Cottle had found and prescribed with no small amount of grumbling as to its unproven effectiveness as a treatment.

She knew that the chamalla wasn't likely to halt the spread of her cancer, but she'd witnessed the alternatives and the devastating side effects that had done little more than extend her mother's suffering. _Besides, if I'm going to fight a futile war it might as well be the one against the Cylons._ And so Laura filled a glass with water, downed one of the pills that left a bitter aftertaste on the back of her tongue and went to meet Wally.

"Sorry about the wait," she said as she entered her office and settled into the chair behind her desk.

"Our meetings never started on time before, why mess with a tradition?" he replied with a smile. Wally had made himself comfortable in the empty room with his feet propped up on a chair and an open folder of papers sprawled across his lap. "By the way, that aide of yours, he's too efficient by far with these reports of his. You sure he's not a Cylon?"

An expression of fear framed as a joke. Wally often tried to use humor in an attempt to ease his anxiety.

It usually made things worse.

"Let's hope he's not," she replied, "for all our sakes." The thought that the young man who kept her secrets and looked after her was a Cylon was not one she wanted to entertain even casually. "The two Cylons we know of have caused enough trouble by themselves and the fleet already has enough to reasons to tear itself apart." _No need to add to them._

Leoben and Doral had both tried to kill Commander Adama for one thing and in the week since the confirmation of rumors that Cylons appeared human, incidents of violence and accusations had been multiplying with alarming frequency. Just this morning she'd received a notice from _Galactica_ that Gaius Baltar was under investigation, having been accused of treason.

"Colonials need a reason to tear each other apart?" Wally's expression had sobered. He tossed one of the report pages onto her desk. She picked it up and started to scan down the bulleted list while he talked. "This ration system we have isn't going to give them less of one. Most of the food supplies we have are perishable and are gonna go rotten before we run out of them. _Kimba Huta _has the largest freezers, but they're at capacity and we're still trying to find others with secure storage. Then there are the complaints.

"The _Dahshur_ wants exemption from the random distribution and a guaranteed supply line because it has both the area and environmental parameters needed for agricultural production. The _Gemini_ wants a higher water ration for religious cleansings. The _Rising Star _says it should keep most of its medical stores because it's caring for the majority of the fleet's civilian wounded. _Tarbedek_ and _Persephone_ want to trade directly for water and fuel from the tankers and refineries instead of supplying off _Galactica._ None of them care that I've already told them no."

"If we start making exceptions then it isn't much of a system and we'll be drowning in accusations of favoritism." Laura pulled off her reading glasses and rubbed away a spot of tension that had started to form behind her temple. "I'll set up a conference for the captains who have objections, but they're going to have to accept no for an answer."

"Since we don't have any carrots to offer, it might help if you can get Commander Adama to back you up," suggested Wally. "We're not much of a government right now without the military to use for a stick."

"I agree." It was difficult for her to rely on Adama for her legitimacy with the fleet's captains, but ever since she had committed to a division between military and civilian matters, he had bowed to her authority and enforced her decisions when necessary.

"You mentioned the _Dahshur_ is capable of supporting agricultural production, can any of those perishable supplies be repurposed for crops?"

"I found a botany intern and a couple of science majors. I've had them going through ship's inventories looking for possibilities, but almost all the produce out of Aerelon and Tauron is seedless so we're concentrating on any stores from the other colonies. We won't know what's going to grow, much less yield anything edible for—" He sighed. "For a long time."

"Well at least we can use _Cloud Nine_ in a similar capacity once its repairs are finished, that might speed things up some. I'll have a copy of this report along with your current assessment submitted to Commander Adama and see if any of his officers have any additional ideas." She paused and tried to blink away a sudden flare of pain from a rapidly forming headache. "See what we can do to prioritize the perishable supplies so that they're not wasted."

"I will."

"Thank you, Wally." Dear Lords her head hurt. "If that's all…"

"A president's work," he replied with another smile as he collected his papers and got up to leave.

No sooner was Wally gone than her phone rang. A call from _Galactica, _Doctor Baltar requesting to speak with her._ A president's work_ _is never done. _

-xxx-

Bill was at his desk reviewing files that had been confiscated from Gaius Baltar's lab and to be honest, he was having a hard time deciphering the scribbled notes and vague reports. Science had never been one of Adama's strong suits, but he suspected that his current lack of comprehension as to what it was Baltar had been doing over the last few weeks had more to do with the good Doctor's questionable sanity than anything else.

He was more than happy to abandon his efforts at making sense of it in preference of whatever crisis accompanied the buzz of his nearby phone.

"Adama."

"Sir, urgent transmission from _Colonial One_ requesting Doc Cottle."

"What for?"

"President Roslin has collapsed."

_What!_

"Put Cottle on a shuttle immediately. Notify me the moment there's anything to report."

"Yes, sir."

Bill frowned and felt a sudden chill wash over him as possible causes were eager to suggest themselves. _Heart attack. Stroke. Poison. _This was not good. Not good at all. _Not now. _The fleet could not afford to lose its president, and he hated the thought of what would happen if they did.

And then he remembered…

A few weeks back Roslin had requested an appointment with Cottle. Allergies she'd said. He hadn't had the time then to question or wonder, but maybe he should have. Leoben had used that excuse too. Adama's concern threatened to transform into suspicion until he reminded himself that it might very well be something as simple as an allergic reaction. If it wasn't food, it could be environmental. The closed air systems on space ships made filtration a nightmare and if _Colonial One_'s scrubbers weren't working optimally, well, it certainly wasn't unheard of for people to have respiratory problems. _It could also be fatigue and stress. _Gods knew he'd endured enough of both lately that he'd nearly passed out a time or two himself.

He was just going to have to wait for an update, but oh, how he hated waiting. It seemed to be all that he was doing lately. Waiting for the Cylons to attack. Waiting during hostage crises. Rescue missions. Investigations. He was frakking sick of waiting. But that's what command was mostly, giving orders and waiting.

Instead of pacing uselessly in his quarters Bill got up and headed for CIC in the hopes that there would be some new piece of information available by the time he arrived. He paused outside one of _Galactica's _gyms where several pilots were running through hand-to-hand and sparring drills, Lee among them.

_A few rounds of boxing might do me some good if I could find the time… _

"Apollo," he called with a nod toward the corridor.

Lee waved off his opponent and told Crashdown to take over as he made his way for the door.

"Starbuck run you out of sickbay too?" he asked. When his father didn't respond Lee's expression turned dour. "What happened?"

The commander waited to answer until he'd resumed his walk toward CIC and they were out of earshot of anyone nearby.

"Cottle's been dispatched to _Colonial One_. The president."

"Frak."

"You don't seem surprised," prodded Bill when his son didn't ask for any details. _Know something I don't?_

"Given what we've been through lately? At this point if it's bad news, it's not really surprising is it? Besides, it's probably just stress."

"Let's hope so. The presidency is a great deal of responsibility. Lot of pressure, limited resources, Cylons after us. If she isn't up to it, it could compromise the safety of the fleet." _You'd tell me if that were the case, wouldn't you?_

"Roslin's tougher than she looks," countered Lee. "She can handle it. I'm sure she'll be fine."

They crossed the threshold into CIC before Adama could press Lee for more information. When Saul caught sight of them, he gestured for them to pick up the nearest handsets. A live feed was coming in from _Colonial One_.

"…_is conscious, she is resting—" _Billy's voice was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of questions. _"She's receiving treatment." _Another garble of noise from what Adama assumed was the press corps. _"Asked and answered. We don't know, we think it's the stomach flu—"_

"Just what we need now, contamination problems or a godsdamned epidemic makin' everyone sick," grumbled Tigh after the transmission ended.

"For now it's an isolated event," replied Lee. "We'll have to wait for Cottle's final report before we start getting pessimistic."

_Always more waiting to do. _

"In the meantime we continue standard security and quarantine protocols for ship-to-ship transfers. Keep an eye on _Astral Queen_ as well as any other ships that've been causing trouble lately. We don't want anyone trying to exploit the situation by spreading fear or sparking more riots."

"Yes sir. I'll have a Raptor team of marines prepped for launch, just in case."

"Anything new concerning the investigation into Doctor Baltar?"

"No sir, but I did tell that Godfrey woman to stop hovering about. I think she went looking for you."

Adama sighed. He felt like he was going in circles today.

"I wanna see some progress somewhere. Check on our Cylon Raider and have something to report by the end of the day," he ordered. Lee and Tigh both nodded.

Bill left CIC to eventually find Miss Godfrey waiting for him in his quarters. When he stepped through the hatch, she sprang to her feet from her spot on his couch.

"Commander Adama, I hope you don't mind that I—I thought it would be safe here." Your first officer seemed to find my presence distracting."

"It's fine Miss Godfrey." That Colonel Tigh might have found Shelley Godfrey distracting was certainly a case of stating the obvious. Saul was not the only one with a weakness for blondes and Dr. Amorak probably didn't choose Miss Godfrey as his assistant based solely on her intellect. "Can I get you anything?"

"A glass of water would be nice." She resumed her seat and waited in silence for him to return with the water she had requested. "Thank you."

"Baltar's correct...," began Adama as he sat down next to her, "about the convenience of it all. Amarak just happens to bring you the key piece of evidence just before he dies..."

"Something was going on. He was almost paranoid. Kept saying that the _Olympic Carrier_ had been infiltrated by the Cylons. He wanted me to take some things off the ship for safekeeping."

"Why did he give it to you?"

"We were friends."

"Friends." _Bullshit._ Adama took a sip of water to cover his reaction.

"I loved him. I loved him very much." Her voice wavered, filled with emotion that he didn't quite believe. She rested her head on his shoulder. "There are times when I just feel so alone now." She was leaning against him. "Times when I just want so much to be held again." Close enough that he could feel her breath. "You understand that, don't you?"

"Of course."

"There must be times when...when you feel alone. When the thought of another body next to yours seems like something out of a dream."

He made the mistake of turning to look at her. She made the mistake of kissing him.

"I'm sorry—" she sputtered when he stood and walked away from her. "I—"

"I think you should go," he suggested.

She stared up at him with an expression of contrived distress. When it failed to elicit any reaction from him, she left without protest.

He picked up the nearest handset and waited to be connected to Colonel Tigh.

"Do not, under any circumstances allow Shelly Godfrey to leave this ship," he ordered. "Put her under surveillance, discreetly. I want to know everybody she's talked to and everywhere she's been." His suspicion was not because she had attempted to seduce him. He understood that emotional distress made people do strange things. It was that every instinct he had told him that something about her simply wasn't sincere. The same way that Gaius Baltar's evasive way of speaking made him seem perpetually guilty of something. "And Saul, find Doctor Baltar. Have him to report to my quarters."

"Aye sir."

-xxx-

"_When I spoke to Doctor Baltar he accused Miss Godfrey of being a Cylon with no evidence to back up the charge. I've had Miss Godfrey placed under surveillance, but it hasn't turned up anything. After he failed to persuade me, Doctor Baltar tried to sabotage the results of the photographic analysis. I had him taken into custody. He's in _Galactica's _brig and his laboratory has been quarantined. We're compiling a list of people for further questioning, but we caught him in the act, he's the man in the photo, his guilt is more than clear."_

"My gods, Baltar, a traitor…"

"_It would appear so."_

"I'll be on the next shuttle."

"_As you wish, Madam President."_

Riding in a shuttle and enduring the jostle of a manual landing on _Galactica's _deck was the last thing that Laura Roslin wanted to do, but she didn't have much choice. She wanted to see Baltar for herself and she needed to allay any concerns that Commander Adama may have about her health. With any luck Captain Apollo had kept her secret and all she had to do was suppress the waves of nausea that were the primary side affect of Cottle's recent treatment.

As she predicted, Commander Adama met her at the airlock. It was a small blessing that she had decided to board _Galactica _alone, if only because Billy's over attentiveness was likely to make Adama skeptical that what was happening to her was more than a simple case of exhaustion or stomach flu or whatever the hell excuse he'd been told.

"Hope you're feeling better, Madam President. You gave us quite a scare."

"It's been an exhausting few days. I'm still here though," she replied with a smile that she had to force in an effort to hide an intensifying urge to throw up. "I'm sure I'll be all right in a day or two."

He nodded and thankfully dropped the matter in favor of offering to escort her to the brig where Baltar was being held. As she followed him Cottle's warning kept her watchful for any sign that her poise was slipping. _"A time is going to come when you are not going to be able to hide what you're going through."_ She wished that day would come later rather than sooner, but it was beyond her control and she highly doubted that if she followed Cottle's advice to pray that it would make any difference whatsoever.

They didn't make it far before an announcement came over _Galactica's _speakers.

"_Attention: Pass the word to Commander Adama, Commander Adama please report to Delta Lab." _

He led her through several more corridors before stopping outside a hatch labeled brig.

"If you'll excuse me, Madam President, I'm apparently needed elsewhere," he said. "A Marine is stationed here and can arrange an escort for you to the lab when you're finished."

"Thank you, Commander." She stood outside the hatch until Commander Adama disappeared around the corner. Once he was gone, she leaned against the doorway and took a few deep breaths to try and calm her stomach. Eventually the latest bout of queasiness subsided and she entered the brig.

The Marine guard stood from his chair in front of Baltar's cell and acknowledged her with a salute. Gaius Baltar was lying on a cot, staring at the ceiling. He looked nothing like the vain, self-assured scientist that Laura remembered on the day when Richard had introduced him to her. It was at the Caprica City Symposium. Baltar had been on the eve of receiving his third Magnate Prize and he had offered a distracted handshake before wandering off in the direction of the nearest governor's wife.

It came as no surprise that he didn't show any signs of having heard her enter the room until she spoke.

"Doctor."

His gaze locked onto her like a falling man reaching for a rope. He pushed himself up from the cot and shuffled toward the bars.

"Madam President."

"I'm so sorry." _So sorry that I trusted you._

"Thank you." He reached out, but she didn't take his hand and instead sank onto the guard's vacant chair. It made it easier to hide her current condition and it made him suddenly uncertain. "You are here to free me, right? To bring this travesty to a close, because... you know I'm innocent."

Innocent? That would have been the last adjective she would have ever used to describe him, even before he'd ended up here.

"Just tell me, so I understand, because I want to understand why. Why you did it."

"I didn't do it." Was the undertone of panic in his denial one of guilt or desperation? "It wasn't me. I'm being framed!"

"Why would she do that?" She decided it was the former.

"Because she's a Cylon."

"She's a Cylon." If that was the only thing he could muster in his defense it was going to be a short trial. That was if he even got a trial.._. _

"You are going to have to believe me."

"I wanna believe you." That much was true. "I wanna believe that I haven't made such a profound error in judgment in trusting you, in asking your advice. But here's where we are, Doctor. If anyone can be a Cylon, and it's hard to tell us apart then we only have one thing left to trust. Our instincts, our feelings. And the moment they told me it was your face in the photo I knew I believed it. I believe you were involved in the attack... somehow. _I feel it_."

"You'll forgive me, Madam President," he replied, his voice steady for once, "if I don't wish to be executed based solely on your gut feeling."

"May the Gods have mercy on your soul."

And yet, it seemed that the Gods did have mercy on him because when Laura found her way to Delta Lab it was only to discover Lieutenant Gaeta had concluded that the photograph was a fake. Doctor Baltar had not planted a bomb in the defense mainframe after all.

By the end of the day, Laura Roslin was back on _Colonial One_, in front of the press, shaking hands with Gaius Baltar again.

"Doctor Baltar, it gives me great pleasure to exonerate you publicly and to recognize you o nce again among us, as a scientist, a leader and a friend."

Though she smiled and declared him innocent, it didn't matter to her that he'd been proven not guilty of one particular crime. He was guilty of another. She could feel it. When she looked into his eyes, she saw it and she had to turn away because it sickened her in a way that had nothing to do with her cancer or the side affects of its treatment.

Just knowing that he was free and on her ship…It was nearly half the night before she could even fall asleep. But even dreams failed to offer any respite as she wandered down empty corridors, through a creaking hatch and out into a lush forest where a man was waiting...

* * *

AN: I'm still at it. And thanks to my dear readers, for their patience and reviews!


	27. Blood & Shadows

_25 Days After Cylon Attack_  
_Coordinates unknown_

Bill's shoulder muscles protested at the jarring impact of his fist with the bag in front of him. _Crawford takes third watch_. He continued anyway. _Crawford takes third watch._ Another punch and another. _Davis flies with Baker. _A few more light jabs and a heavy cross. _Davis flies with— Baker_. His next hit faltered when his mind called up a name he'd been trying to avoid. _Leoben._

He shifted his stance and tried to regain his focus. "_It's not a him. It's an it."_ His breathing quickened with the pace of his strikes. "_Anything it says cannot be trusted."_ Yet what Leoben said was hard to forget. The Cylon's words lingered in the mind, swirling and twisting like smoke.

"_I'm an observer of human nature..."_

Adama started to throw more weight behind his combinations. _At least it's dead…Again. _

That was the trouble of course. Death didn't matter to a Cylon. "_When this body dies, my consciousness will be transferred into another one."_ Soon enough, another had appeared in their midst. And the president had wanted it interrogated! "_Send someone who won't be easily confused, that's an order, Commander_." So he had sent Starbuck.

"_Your job is to make sure he doesn't achieve the goal_." By whatever means necessary.

He knew what she would do. He knew, because he had once been in her place.

"_I'm gonna ask some questions and you're gonna give me some answers."_

A pilot unable to fly, in need of an outlet, of a way to stay in control.

"_Here's your dilemma, give in, but that makes you a coward..."_

Torturing a man never did achieve much in and of itself.

"_...or you can resist. B__ut it isn't gonna matter."_

It did make it easier to get into their head.

"_What you choose doesn't __matter."_

To turn their mind against them.

"_Because you'll be in agony,_

_crying and screaming_

_and begging—"_

Pain arced through Bill's arm from a misplaced blow and broke his rhythm.

"S_ooner or later the day comes, when you can't hide from the things that you've done." _

He started again, harder this time, trying to drive Leoben's words away, but his efforts only seemed to hammer them deeper into his thoughts.

"_I'm an observer of human nature. __When you get right down to it, humanity is not a pretty race." _

There's no other choice for a solider but to follow orders, to use coercion when all else fails.

"_We're only one step away from beating each other with clubs like savages." _

It wasn't torture if they weren't a citizen. It isn't murder if it's a machine.

"_Maybe the Cylons are god's retribution for our many sins..."_

Bill let out a shout of frustration and struck the bag with a final wild swing. Another flare of pain lanced through him, sharp, like a shard of glass. He couldn't breathe. He had to stop. _Frak._

When he'd caught his breath he worked one of his hands out of its glove and pulled off the other with a sigh. _So much for trying to clear my head._ Adrenaline gone and weariness sinking in he headed back to his quarters for a shower. By the time the water hit his skin he'd started to ache. He could already feel the consequences of his exertion taking its toll on his body, a stiffness in his shoulder, a twinge in his back, throbbing in a knee joint. _When did I get old?_

He tried to rub away as much of the hurt as he could, but he gave up when the water turned lukewarm. The commander of a battlestar enjoyed certain benefits over the rank and file, but even he didn't get an infinite supply of hot water. Nor did he get an infinite amount of time to relax in the comfort of fresh clothes and the cushions of his leather couch before the insistent buzz of the phone dragged him onto his feet.

Petty Officer Dualla's voice greeted him.

"_Sorry to disturb you sir, but I have an incoming transmission from the Captain of the _Rising Star_."_

"Regarding?"

"_Wouldn't say sir, only that it pertained to fleet security and he requested to speak with you directly." _

"Put him through." He waited for the characteristic silence and subsequent click of the transmission being momentarily dropped then routed through _Galactica's_ comm board.

"_Commander Adama?"_ Captain Ortega's thick Gemanese accent did nothing to hide the edge of fear in his tone. _"Is this line secure?"_

"Yes Captain, what can I do for you?"

"_There is a woman aboard my ship that is not on my manifest and I have no record of transfer. I have questioned my people, but they don't remember her. She just...appeared last week among the injured. I thought perhaps she may have been overlooked in the chaos, but, now I'm worried that it's something else." _There was a burst of static over the line as Ortega took a deep breath before he continued. _"She's been asking for a man named Saul and says he is a Colonial Officer. I searched, checked records, I think your XO may be this man she asks for." _

"Did she give her name? What does this woman look like?"

"_She's blonde, blue eyes, says her name is Ellen. But Commander, I don't believe this is all just a coincidence, that suddenly she is here and says these things. I don't trust coincidences."_

"Neither do I," he replied. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll have someone look into the situation. Keep her under close observation and call me if you have any further concerns."

"_I will Commander, thank you."_

After the captain was off the line Adama returned the phone to its cradle and tried to think.

_Ellen._

Another name he didn't want to remember. He hadn't even considered that she might have survived the attacks. If it really was her then Saul would need to know. But Captain Ortega was right, it was a little too convenient. _What if she's a Cylon duplicate? _What if she had been sent into the fleet to undermine the leadership, to turn them against each other like Shelley Godfrey had tried to do? _Doctor Baltar's Cylon detector should be complete soon. I can have her tested to be sure. _He just needed time to investigate before Saul found out...

Adama got Dualla back on the line.

"_Commander?"_

"I need you to delete the trace logs of that call," he ordered. "Any additional transmissions from the _Rising Star_ are to remain off log and be received only by me until further notice."

"_Yes, sir..."_

"Also please have Doctor Cottle report to my quarters as soon as possible. That will be all."

-x-

"_Something wrong?"_ he'd asked.

"_No...nothing at all."_

A lie.

"_Something wrong?" _

_Only everything, _she wished she'd answered_. _

She was dying. She shouldn't be president. She was afraid. Except she couldn't tell Adama any of that. Instead, Laura pretended and lied and it had been easy. _Nothing at all. _And as she lay awake in her bed on _Colonial One_ unable to sleep, she realized she hated the answer she'd given him. Was it because it was a lie? Because it was Adama she'd lied to? Or was it because the lying had been easy? _Gods, what difference does it make?_ She shifted her position in bed and tried to will her mind to sleep, but it refused to obey.

How many times had she lied to Richard? More than she could count. It had been easy then too. Easy to tell him there wasn't anything he could do while she lost the last of her family. Easy to tell him everything was fine, believing that he was still the same man, honest, charming and passionate, when they were liars both. The lies of her life that she told to herself, to him, to everyone, it was as easy as breathing. She didn't even have to think about them anymore, and how wrong was that? _Even Gaius Baltar squirmed when he lied and said he was innocent. _

All she knew was that sometimes the truth was simply too dangerous. Entrust it to the wrong person and it was like handing a knife to your executioner. That's what Leoben had done, after all. _"The warhead doesn't exist. I made it up." _His words became the signature for his death warrant. And of course, he was the real reason she couldn't sleep this time, why she stared into the dark unable to close her eyes. Because every time she did, she saw him, bruised and smiling, felt him, his arms around her like a lover's embrace, the smell of him, of sweat and blood, flooded her senses and his whispered secrets shadowed all of her thoughts.

"_Adama is a Cylon." _

Another lie. It had to be. Yet there was still that nagging doubt, insidious and persistent. _What if it's true?_

When the fleet had joined _Galactica _at Ragnor Anchorage Commander Adama had been missing. How could any of them be sure that the man who came back to them,who had been found covered in blood, was the real Commander Adama? With four little words Leoben had given a voice to her worst fear, that the man who protected them all was an enemy instead of a friend. Fear had poured into her like ice water and she'd resolved to be rid of it. _"Put him out the airlock." _It had almost worked, almost, until she saw a piece of her dreams, her nightmares, come to life as the Cylon was pulled away into space._ It's just a side effect of the chamalla,_ she told herself. Like the insomnia she'd been experiencing for the last three hours.

Laura sat up, abandoning any further attempts at sleep with a sigh of frustration and wrapped a robe around herself. She took a moment to gather enough energy to stand, then shuffled out of her sleeping quarters toward her office. Once there, she found that all the lights had been turned off except for the lamp on the corner of her desk and sitting in her chair was Billy, awake, with a stack of papers in front of him and a pen rolling between his fingers. Richard had done the same thing when he'd been too stressed to sleep.

"You're up late," she said. Billy jumped at the sound of her voice and scrambled to stand.

"Madam President," he sputtered, "I—I was just going over some reports and..." She motioned for him to sit back down.

"It's perfectly all right."

"Uh, do you need—"

"No, no I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep, thought I'd walk around a bit, try to clear my head." She moved to face the whiteboard on the wall. Billy's gaze followed hers.

_47,954. _

"I wish that number would stop shrinking," he said.

"Hm, me too." He passed her a slip of paper from his collection, it was the revised survivor count. "I once told President Adar that I wasn't very good at math," she mused as she erased the 54 from the whiteboard and drew in the new digits_. _"The truth is, it just wasn't my favorite subject. Something about numbers that I've always hated..." She set down her marker.

_47,941. _

_Especially when they keep getting smaller._

"They're the most important thing we have left now," he said as he took the slip of paper back. "How many ships, how many people, how much food, how much fuel. How long until—" He stopped himself with a glance at her and shuffled through a stack of notepads. "I keep having this feeling that I did the math all wrong." His pencil scribbled a calculation in the margins of a page. "Then sometimes I dream that one day I'll wake up and this is all in the past, something to just be forgotten."

"We should never forget our past, Billy. We don't have a future without it." She was proof enough of that.

He smiled, for just a moment. "I suppose I shouldn't argue with a history teacher. At least one of the captains in the fleet agrees with you," he said with a gesture toward the photo on her wall. The one of a soldier on his knees while Aerelon burned. Someone had titled it _Lest We Forget_. "Maybe this time we'll remember."

"I hope so." _If enough of us survive. Maybe._ She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Still, we won't be helping the number on that whiteboard if we're both exhausted tomorrow. You should try to get some rest."

"Of course, Madam President." He stuffed several sheets into a folder to take with him and vacated her chair. He paused at the curtain that separated her office from the rest of the ship. "Goodnight, Madam President."

"Goodnight, Billy." After he left she turned off the lamp and went to sit by one of the windows. There wasn't really anything outside the ship to see, _Galactica's _dark bulk obscured the stars and anything else that might be out there. Its presence should have been a comfort to her, but she couldn't help wondering, _how many Cylons are on that ship? How many in the fleet? _That was the number she really wanted to know and if Commander Adama might be among them. If Baltar's detection methods worked then eventually she might find out._ Provided I'm still alive._

Laura closed her eyes just long enough to swallow the sudden knot of emotion in her throat. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying. A few shuddering breaths calmed her and alone, in the dark, she felt herself drifting, her mind and body both worn out at last. For the first time in days she dreamed of nothing at all.

-x-

"_Rising Star_, _Raptor One _requesting landing clearance."

"_Acknowledged Raptor One, clearance granted for bay three."_

"I thought we were going to _Cloud Nine,_" said Cottle with a glare toward the back of the Raptor.

"Change of plans," replied Bill from the ECO seat.

"I don't suppose you'd care to explain?"

"Already told you, it's a priority medical inspection."

"That just had to be rescheduled for four in the godsdamned morning?"

Commander Adama didn't answer and instead waited for their pilot, Karma, to finish the landing procedure and open the Raptor's side door. The bay should have been deserted, but as they disembarked they were greeted in person by Captain Ortega.

"Doctor Cottle, good to see you again. Commander Adama? I did not expect—" He swallowed his surprise and gestured toward a hatch on the right side of the bay. "Please, this way."

Karma remained with the Raptor while Adama and Cottle followed the captain. The corridors were mostly dark, though it could have been as much from Captain Ortega's body blocking the lights as the generally dim illumination. The captain's height and broad shoulders forced him into a perpetual stoop and it seemed to Adama that perhaps the man would've been more suited to an outdoor career than becoming the administrator of a cramped space vessel.

"We observe a strict day and night cycle beyond this point," said the captain as they followed him up a step ladder onto the pitch dark main deck. Ortega paused to switch on a penlight that dangled from one of his belt loops and continued on his way with the surety of a man who knew the way by habit. The tiny spot of light bounced across the floor with the captain's every step and Adama found it easier to rely on the heavy sound of Ortega's boots to guide him as the captain led them past rows of beds. The occasional beep of the monitoring equipment echoed at random intervals that reminded Commander Adama of chirping frogs in a pond.

Cottle bumped into Adama with a stifled a curse when they stopped outside a hatch and Bill instinctively cast a glare over his shoulder before he realized the doctor wouldn't be able to see it.

"I had her moved here, to private quarters," whispered the captain as he opened the hatch and ushered them through. When the hatch was sealed he moved to turn on an overhead light that cast the room in a harsh blue glow. Despite the sudden illumination the woman didn't wake.

Her face was pale and the evidence of what had once been an array of cuts and bruises had mostly faded to a faint yellow tinge streaked with red lines. Bill tried to remember the last time he'd seen Ellen Tigh. It was at least a couple years ago, they had been in a club, celebrating Bill and Saul's possible retirement, but the specifics of that night still escaped him on account of it being spent in a drunken haze. Before that, it was Ellen and Saul's second wedding anniversary, when Bill was looking forward to having two sons in the Colonial Fleet and Ellen hadn't yet learned to resent her husband's devotion to his commander and friend. The woman he remembered looked different from the one he saw before him now, but it was the differences of time and context, not identity. It was her, it was Ellen.

"Mostly superficial lacerations, bruising, but no evidence of major hemorrhages," said Cottle while he reviewed her chart. "She seems to be mostly healed. The head trauma she sustained is really the only thing to be concerned about. Does she still spend a lot of time unconscious?"

"It's probably the sedatives," replied the captain from where he stood in the corner of the room.

"Sedatives? Were you trying to put her into a coma?"

Ortega glanced in Adama's direction before answering the doctor. "The dosage is minimal and necessary I assure you. We have kept close watch."

"Doctor Cottle, I need you take some blood samples for further analysis," ordered the commander.

"Just what the hell is going on here?" When neither the captain or Adama offered an explanation he shook his head in disbelief. "You think this woman is a Cylon, don't you? Well I hate to tell you both, but there isn't a whole helluva lot I can do with a blood sample to prove things one way or another."

"Just do it." Bill knew that Cottle's results would most likely be inconclusive and that he'd have to wait until Doctor Baltar's Cylon detector was ready before there would be anything resembling a definitive answer as to whether Ellen was a Cylon copy or simply an overlooked survivor. Still, Adama had reservations about Baltar's methods and wanted a second opinion he could trust, even if that opinion turned out to be worthless.

By the time Cottle was finished with his ordered task and had repacked his medkit, Ellen stirred with the beginnings of awareness, blinking and squinting in the light and mumbling a few incoherent phrases.

"Captain Ortega please escort the doctor back to the Raptor and let me know when it's ready to launch." He wanted a few minutes alone with her.

"Of course, Commander."

Once the hatch had closed Adama moved closer to Ellen's bed and tried to get her attention.

"Ellen, can you hear me? Ellen, it's Bill." She looked up at him, her expression uncertain.

"Bill?" Her voice was still thick with sleep. "What happened? No one will tell me. What happened? Where am I?"

How much should he reveal? _Just keep it simple. _"The Cylons attacked us, you're on one of the ships that escaped. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"I was on Picon. Where's Saul?"

"Do you remember anything else?"

"No. Where's Saul? Why isn't he with you?" Her eyes started to fill with tears. "Something happened to him didn't it? You're here to tell me he's—"

He rested a hand on her shoulder to calm her. "That's not why I'm here, Saul's fine. He's on duty right now so he couldn't come." A lie. Bill had chosen this time specifically because Captain Kelly would be the officer on watch and Saul would be asleep. No one on _Galactica _except Karma and the doctor would ever know that the commander had left his ship.

"When can I see him?" She tried to push herself up into a sitting position and only half managed it. "I wanna see my husband."

"Travel between ships was restricted after a suicide bombing on _Galactica, _I can't make exceptions to the security protocols right now." How much time could he buy without her becoming suspicious? "Maybe in a couple days, when you're feeling better, okay?"

"Please, Bill—"

"I'll make the necessary arrangements and you'll see him soon, I promise." There was a soft knock on the hatch. "I have to go. If you need anything, the captain will take care of it."

"Wait—" She reached for his hand too late, Bill had already withdrawn and was across the room pulling open the hatch. He closed it behind him to find Ortega waiting in the corridor, his penlight a thin line of illumination against the shadows.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked as he led Adama back toward the Raptor.

"I'll be back in a few days, until then, she's the wife of _Galactica's_ XO, make every effort to fulfill any reasonable requests that she has. Knowing her most of them will be unreasonable," he said with a sigh. "But do your best and keep me apprised."

"I will. Lords grant you answers and a safe journey, Commander."

"So say we all."


	28. Too Sharp A Knife

**If you're a Cylon...  
**I can't take any chances.

**If you're a Cylon.  
**Her fear was betrayed by her questions.  
Who's going to go first?  
What'd you find out?  
The answers she had just weren't enough.  
His odd behavior could simply be stress.  
But what if it's not?  
What if it's not?  
**I'd like to know.  
**Leoben's words just wouldn't let go.  
Why'd he stop his test?  
Maybe Tigh could explain?  
An invitation to dinner,  
Offered and cloaked in suspicion.  
Trust was too sharp a knife,  
To lay on the table between them.

-x-

**If you're a Cylon.  
**When he brought her aboard,  
Ellen was a woman transformed.  
Oblivious to his loss and his worry.  
His friend loved her, but blindly.  
She drove him to drink.  
He couldn't help feeling,  
That it'd be their undoing.  
**I'd like to know.  
**Who's the friend, who's the foe?  
He found out she'd been spying  
How could she dare?  
He explained, no more secrets.  
They'd all feared for nothing.  
But trust was too sharp a knife,  
To lay on the table between them.

**...If I'm a Cylon,  
**You're really screwed.


	29. A Family of War

_36 Days After Cylon Attack  
Coordinates unknown_

"It's happening again isn't it?" asked Billy as he tugged the curtains closed to shield Roslin from the murmurs and prying eyes of the reporters. He was referring to the sudden waves of nausea and fatigue that made her want to faint and that had been growing worse over the last two weeks.

"No." Not that. Not this time. "I'm seeing things." She could still feel the smooth scales sliding over her fingers... "It's like the nightmares I've been having." _It isn't real. It can't be. _"Although, it's happening now while I'm awake."

"It's the chamalla." He handed her a glass of water. "Doc Cottle said that the side effects would include hallucinations." She had to concentrate just to keep her hand from shaking as she took a sip and set the glass down. "It's not necessarily a bad thing Madam President, my uncle was a priest, they used to take chamalla in seminary to seek higher levels of consciousness."

"I've read that. That's not at all what this feels like." It felt like she was being pulled out herself, but to nowhere in particular. The sharp clarity that had been her constant companion since the attacks was simply yanked away. It would've hardly mattered before, she always used to be able to call up the necessary words and gestures that allowed her to hide it when something was wrong. But not anymore. Now the disorientation was too sudden. Too hard to ignore. Too real.

"Maybe it would help to talk to a priest," she said with a sigh. "One of them might know more about how to deal with the symptoms." And maybe it would be good to have some advice from someone who wasn't her doctor, her military adviser, or her aide, but who could still keep a secret.

She didn't even have to ask.

"Of course, Madam President. I'll make the arrangements."

"Thank you, Billy." Always a thank you, if only to remind herself not to take him for granted. She preempted his next likely suggestion by saying that she was going to go rest for a few minutes and ducked through the curtain that lead to her private accommodations.

Laura sat down on her bed and tried to rub away the lingering sensation that something was still trying to slither its way up her arm. She reached for the copy of _Dark Day_ on her table in hopes it would help her forget.

…_Mercy was the first thing to go in the pursuit of vengeance. It had to. At least, that's what he'd convinced himself to believe. Compassion would only make him hesitate, keep him from doing what must be done to put a stop to that murdering shadow whose taunts echoed in the night. He couldn't afford mercy, even if it meant that they'd be digging two more graves instead of one..._

The words blurred on the page and the sentences jumbled together as her concentration wavered. She set the book aside and resigned herself to waiting. It wasn't long before she heard the muffled knock on the doorway that preceded Billy pushing aside the curtains. He motioned for Elosha to enter, brought in a chair so that she could sit across from Roslin, and then excused himself with characteristic efficiency. Laura smiled to see that Billy had chosen someone familiar. This conversation would be difficult enough for her without the added complication of confiding in a stranger.

"What can I do for you, Madam President?" Elosha's tone carried the quiet calm that was the mark of her profession.

Laura chose her words carefully."I've been taking chamalla for a medical condition," she said.

"So what have you seen?" It was more of a statement than a question, delivered without judgment.

"It started out as dreams of the Cylon that we had executed." And of a man waiting for her at the end of twisting corridors. "But I had the dreams before we captured him. The images were..."

"Prescient?"

Vividly. But Laura groped for a different word. "Uncanny," she replied. "And now I'm seeing things while I'm awake."

A nod of understanding. "What kind of things?"

"Snakes." Across her hands, moving between her fingers, hissing... "There were snakes, crawling all over my podium during the press conference."

"How many?"

"About a dozen."

Elosha pushed herself to her feet, suddenly flustered. "You're kidding me, right? You read Pythia and now you're having me on."

"No..." What did it mean? "Who is Pythia?" Laura's familiarity with history didn't extend far beyond her area of expertise in the governments and modern history of the Colonies, it certainly didn't include mythology or religion.

"One of the oracles, in the sacred scrolls," explained Elosha. "Three thousand six hundred years ago, Pythia wrote about the exile and the rebirth of a human race. And the lords anointed a leader to guide the caravan of the heavens to their new homeland and unto the leader they gave a vision of serpents, numbering two and ten, as a sign of things to come."

"Pythia wrote that?" What was it lieutenant Thrace had told her? "_He thinks he can see the future. Says he knows our destiny."_ A sign of things to come. _"He says we're gonna find Kobol and that it's gonna lead us to Earth."_

"She also wrote that the leader suffered a wasting disease and would not live to enter the new land, but you're not dying... are you?"

It was a coincidence, just the vagaries of oracles that let people interpret them in a way that gave them a sense of purpose. And yet._ How many coincidences does it take?_

"We're all dying," she answered, "every day that the Cylons hunt us and we have to keep running."

Elosha smiled at Laura's attempt to evade the question and returned to her seat. "The scrolls tell us that all this has happened before and so it will happen again. The roles that perpetuate that cycle will be filled by someone who is right for them. If Pythia's words are meant for you then the sacrifice that the gods have asked from you is high, but it is not without purpose or recompense. It is our means to salvation."

"That's a heavy burden for one person." _What if I'm not strong enough?_

"It's no heavier than the ones you already carried before you learned this." Elosha reached across the coffee table that separated them to clasp one of Laura's hands between her own. "You have already saved us, Laura. And your leadership has kept this fleet alive despite the terrible choices that have been given to you. I believe you asked me here because you're looking for more than the meaning of a vision, and while I can offer the words of the scrolls for guidance, the path that we take is yours to choose and for me to follow. I have faith that the President of the Colonies will do what is right for her people."

_I wish I could say the same..._

Before Laura could respond the sound of hurried footsteps and another knock on the doorway drew her attention.

"Sorry for interrupting Madam President," said Billy, "The last Raptor reported back. We've found an asteroid positive for Tylium and Commander Adama has a briefing scheduled to start in thirty minutes. I have the shuttle prepped."

_Finally some good news. _

Only after she'd excused herself and made the trip to _Galactica _did she learn that the good news came with several caveats. The Cylons stood between the fleet and the Tylium they needed in order to keep jumping. And the plan Lieutenant Thrace and Captain Apollo had presented was risky.

"How many casualties do we anticipate?" _How many more lives will I have to erase from my whiteboard?_

"It'll cost us," replied Colonel Tigh. _Always another sacrifice to be made..._

"If you succeed, what's to prevent the Cylons from coming back with reinforcements?"

"Nothing," answered Commander Adama. "But if we get a chance to knock out that base, it'll buy us some time."

Time. The one thing she didn't have, but something the fleet needed. Something that Adama thought he could purchase with the lives of his men and his Vipers.

"If you keep running from a schoolyard bully, he keeps on chasing you, but the moment you turn around and stop and you punch him really hard in a sensitive spot, he'll think twice about coming back again."

_Or he'll destroy you, _she thought. But what other choice did they have?

"So it's either this, or run out of fuel and be annihilated."

"Sometimes you have to roll the hard six," said Adama. _Gamble and pray that you don't lose everything. _

It was no way to win a war. _But it's not a war that we're fighting. We're just trying to survive. _

"Well, the freighters are yours," she told them. "Good hunting, everyone."

Good hunting. Those words were the closest thing to a prayer that any of them had.

"Operation starts in forty eight hours."

-x-

In Bill Adama's experience the amount of time spent in preparation for an op was never right. It didn't matter if you had a minute or a week. There weren't enough seconds to spare to make sure that all the details were perfect and at the same time there were too many seconds wasted feeling restless for the action to begin. There was a lot that had to be done in their forty eight hour window; transfer three freighters worth of civilians to other ships, run maintenance and repair on every Viper that had working engines and weapon systems, brief the pilots and the deck gangs and the command staff, restock the ordinance for _Galactica's _point defense batteries.._._ The list went on and on. As a result, Bill spent the first twenty four hours with reports in his hands concerning the status of everything, checked and double checked. By the second day he'd run out of things to do that weren't a repeat of what he'd already done, so he roamed around the ship, his feet carrying him in a loop through the corridors until he wandered into _Galactica's _gym. He found Kara at the leg press trying to speed along her recovery in time for the upcoming mission.

"How's the knee, Starbuck?"

"It'll be ready. I'm not missing this party." She sounded determined, but that wouldn't be enough if her body couldn't follow through and Cottle's readiness assessment from the day before had been more than clear.

He sighed and triggered the safety catch on the side of the machine with his foot.

"Apollo's leading the strike force," he said as gently as he could. "You have to sit this one out."

"I'm the best pilot that you have."

"Not right now. In combat, you gotta pull six, seven Gs. Doc says your knee won't take it."

"Well, then he's wrong."

"Is he?" Adama moved to pick up one of the weights nearby. "A viper thruster pedal..." He slid it onto the bar. "...Requires this much force..." He balanced out the other end with another weight. "...To activate."

Starbuck took a breath, pushed the weight up and with a grunt of effort, held it.

"Now you're on your attack run. They launch their missiles. So you gotta jam that pedal..." He added more weight. "...Into the firewall and hold a six G turn..." The last weight came to rest against the others with a clang."...For ten seconds or you die."

Her leg was already shaking as he started counting.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four—" Her strength gave out and the weights slid down. "This was only three Gs, Starbuck, not six. I'm sorry, it's a tough one but you're staying home."

She didn't answer him or try to argue, just got up with a huff of frustration and did her best to storm out of the room despite the limp that still hampered her movements. He understood her reaction. He'd felt the same way after the crash that had taken him out of Spec Ops, but it didn't change the truth. If he let her fly she was guaranteed to get herself or her fellow pilots killed when she realized too late that she'd pushed past her limits.

He wanted Kara to fully recover and get back into the cockpit soon, but maybe it was time to see if she could make the transition into a different set of responsibilities. It would be hard. She'd fight it every step. So had he. But it was inevitable, eventually you reached a point in the service where the only options were move up or move out. For the moment, Bill decided to keep moving in circles between the thousand other things that needed his attention, not because he was the ship's Commander, but because if he didn't keep finding something to do then the wait before the op was going to eat him alive.

Everything had been triple and quadruple checked and anyone who wasn't on duty had found their way to their racks by the time Bill Adama made his fifth trip to the hangar deck. While he walked around the upper level he saw Lee down below sitting on a bay divider and staring at one of the Vipers. Bill caught a glimpse of the tail number as he made his way around, 7242. His old ship. The one that Lee and Zak had played on as kids and that Bill had flown at an air show years ago. Now it was an old junker of a plane, but it had saved Lee's life when the Cylons attacked.

"Can't sleep?" asked Bill as he descended the steps from the upper level onto the lower deck. "I couldn't either before a big op." Lee stayed quiet, so Bill kept talking. "Mark two...good ship. Got me out of a lot of tough scrapes." Mark twos were lucky ships.

_Speaking of luck..._

Adama reached into his pocket and his fingers closed around a familiar piece of warm metal.

"Got something for you." He held out his lighter and Lee took it. "Belonged to your grandfather. My mom bought it for him when he was in law school." And Joseph had sent it to Bill when he'd started flight school. He still remembered the note his father had tucked into the envelope with it.

_On Tauron there's a saying that, 'We are from the soil and so shall we return, but war is made of fire and in it every soldier burns.' For this reason I wished you had chosen a different path in life, but we are a family of war. _

_It finds us, always. If we're not careful it will consume everything that we love. _

That much was true. It had followed them from Tauron to Caprica, and from father to son, for three generations, with no end in sight. The toll of the battles, had left their family nearly as tarnished as the lighter Lee held in his hands.

"See the engraving on it?"

"Yeah, I can barely make it out..."

"He was a better father than I was," Bill admitted. He had tried to be, anyway. "Dad used to carry that into court cases, claimed he never lost, unless he left it behind."

It didn't matter if that was the truth or not. What mattered, was that now Bill understood why his father had sent him a lucky charm despite the fact that neither one of them would have admitted to a belief in something so superstitious as luck. It was simply what a worried father did when there was nothing else that he could do to protect his son.

_This bit of fire kept me safe. I hope it will do the same for you._

Lee fidgeted with the lighter in his hand. "So you're worried too."

"About what?"

"You know, sometimes it feels like the whole ship thinks, uh, Starbuck would do better."

"I don't." Starbuck might be the craziest pilot they had, but this mission needed a leader, not a daredevil.

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cause you're my son," he answered, as if that was all anyone needed to know. "Get some rest." There were only six hours left before mission start. "You're gonna need it."

He only made it a few steps back up the ladder before Lee called out, "Dad... I'll bring it back."

"You better," replied Bill with a smile, "or I'll kick your ass. It's a good lighter."

-xxx-

Cylons inbound.

Strike force one launched.

There was no turning back now. And Bill Adama was relieved. There was only one battle left that he had to fight, this one, and if they lost then at least that would be the end, no more worrying about what was gone and what they had left. If they won then they might buy themselves a reprieve before they went back to running, waiting, and the dread of a Cylon attack that followed the fleet and the ship and him. Right now, all he had to worry about was the ongoing mission.

It wasn't long before Starbuck joined the rest of the tactical staff in the war room, her anxiety written in every muscle and across her face.

"How hard did they bite?" she asked as she leaned on the edge of the table.

"Boomer's report said ninety plus," replied Adama. "They've launched most of their fighter force." He kept his gaze on the light board as the Viper models were pushed closer to the Cylon base.

"Our attack force is away," reported Lieutenant Gaeta.

"I just hope that Lee can..." She stopped herself and Bill cast a glance at her.

"Lee isn't the problem," he said. "You should take a good look at yourself. I had to go through the same transition. When you're in the cockpit, you're in control. It's hard to give it up." _Hell, I haven't flown in over a decade and I still want to go back. _

"It would just be a lot easier if I was flying with them." That's what every pilot thought when they found themselves grounded.

"All you can do now is wait and hope you didn't make any mistakes." It was all he could do any more. Plan and hope and tally the dead that his mistakes produced.

"I never wanted this kind of responsibility," she said.

_Neither did I, but..._

"The Cylons never asked us what we wanted." _They didn't leave us any choice. _"Welcome to the big leagues."

"_Galactica, Crashdown, tally fifty plus on an intercept course. Repeat, fifty plus inbound." _

"What's that mean?" interjected Dr. Baltar from his seat behind them.

"It means that a Cylon patrol spotted our attack force," explained Starbuck. "The base sent out fifty more raiders, to intercept."

"Fifty raiders? That means we're outnumbered now, five to one?"

"Weren't the decoys supposed to take care of that?" asked Roslin.

"Cylons are too smart for that," he replied. Kara mumbled a curse beside him and her hand gripped the table edge tighter.

Another minute dragged by and then the wireless chatter started pouring in as strike force one engaged the enemy.

"_Fireball, multiple bandits, left, ten high. Range forty, weapons free, committing."_

"_Hotdog, visual tally, press."_

"_Hotdog, break right!"_

"_Fireball, your six!"_

The sound of an alarm blared through the speakers. _"I'm hit, I'm hit! Can't eject! It's stuck!"_

"_Deadbolt, Spinner, two bandits closing in, right five."_

"_No joy, no joy."_

"_Aaahh—"_

"_There's too many of them!"_

"_Galactica, Hotdog. Heavily engaged, mission outcome doubtful."_

"This sounds frakking awful," said Baltar.

Of course what the doctor didn't understand was that it always sounded awful. Whether he was in a Viper or out of it the chaos of a battle in progress always made Bill feel like he was losing, until the noise suddenly stopped and it was over.

"_I've got no visual!"_

"_On your wing, on your wing!"_

"They're getting cut to pieces out there," pressed Starbuck.

_We both knew this plan was going to cost us,_ Bill thought. But the implication behind Kara's objection was right, the cost was getting too high.

"_Take the shot, get outta there! Move! Move!"_

"_Deadbolt, break vertical, now, now, now!" _

"_Damn it, take the shot, get him off me—!"_

"Mr. Gaeta, abort strike one," he ordered.

The Viper model on the board was flipped back toward _Galactica _as the strike force went into a retreat.

"_Galactica, Stubbs. Cylon strike force is turning away from Deacon and inbound to Galactica." _

"Cylons heard our transmission recall, didn't they?"

"Does that mean the first wave of raiders is ignoring the decoys and is... is coming after us?"

"That's exactly what it means." It's exactly what they needed.

"So when are we going to launch the reserve vipers to defend Galactica?" asked Baltar with an edge of panic in his voice.

"There are no reserve vipers. Everything is on the board already." Adama looked across the table to Kara. "Now we play for all the marbles. Starbuck, it's your plan."

She nodded and moved to relay the orders.

"Mr. Gaeta, will you please tell Dee to get on the scrambler and inform Apollo 'the back door is open'?"

"Aye, lieutenant. Dee please send a scrambler to Captain Apollo. Message reads, 'the back door is open'."

A trio of Vipers representing Apollo's strike force was placed onto the board in front of the cargo ship.

"Lieutenant Thrace," asked the president quietly, "why didn't you tell me we had another attack force hidden in the freighters?

"We, uh—"

Adama cut her off. "It was my decision. I routinely restrict tactical details to those who need to know." _Trust works both ways, Madam President. You don't trust me, I won't trust you either. _"Old habits die hard."

"So you still might pull this off?" Roslin asked with a carefully suppressed smile.

"If Dr. Baltar's target information is correct..."

"And whether we get blown to pieces by those Cylon raiders heading toward us right now."

"Speaking of which, I'm needed in CIC." Adama offered a parting nod of acknowledgment then turned and left the room. Regardless of whether or not Lee succeeded, Bill's priority now was to defend his ship.

"Commander on deck!"

"As you were."

"First wave of Cylons will be on us in three minutes," announced Tigh.

"Notify the strike one Vipers that they can stop running and blast those bastards to hell."

"Yes, sir."

"_Engaging Cylon fighters."_

"_Target acquired, tone and lock."_

The chatter was calmer now, more controlled, but it was still an uneven fight. _Time to even it up._

"_Buzzer, on your three."_

"_Tally, I got him..."_

"Order bow batteries weapons hot, set point defenses on full auto fire and route strike-two's transmissions to priority channels."

"Aye, sir."

The speakers overhead crackled for a moment and then despite the static, Bill heard his son's voice.

"_...T__he conveyor tunnel's clear—I'm going through it." _

"_You're out of your frakking mind, Apollo."_

_My thoughts exactly. _But there was no time to spare for Lee's sudden decision to be a daredevil.

"Sir, Cylons have engaged point defenses, they're targeting one of the forward railguns."

"DC teams are reporting buckling in surrounding sections, frames nine through fifteen.."

"Have DC seal those frames before they breach, but put a team on standby behind frame twenty." If the gunner for that turret was still alive he was on his own until the rescue crews could get to him.

"Cylon forces are pulling back from flak range."

The speakers flared to life again. _"I'm okay. I'm through the tunnel. They can't get a firing solution on me." _

Then the wireless went silent, even the chatter from the other pilot's died. Colonel Tigh's gaze was locked on the Dradis consoles above him, but Bill had to look away. _ All you can do now is wait and hope..._ The seconds dragged by and he strained to hear something in the static, but there was nothing. Nothing until...

"_Ahh, Galactica, Apollo._ _Mission... accomplished." _

_Yes!_

"_Y__ou can tell Doctor Baltar he was right on the money. It's one hell of a fireworks show. And there's plenty of ore for us back in the canyon, once this place is history." _

The CIC erupted into cheers around him, but Bill kept his expression carefully controlled. He offered Saul a restrained handshake as the Colonel passed by. They both knew that even with their success, the work was just beginning. There would be damage and loss assessments to review and now they had to get that fuel processed before the enemy sent reinforcements to retake the base.

"Commander, strike one reports inbound Cylons are bugging out, request permission to go after them, sir."

"Tell our people to pursue and destroy."

"Affirmative. Strike one, tear 'em up."

Once he was fairly sure there wouldn't be any last minute disasters, Adama left Colonel Tigh to oversee the mop up and went to greet the returning pilots. The hangar deck was a pandemonium of spraying champagne, hugging and shouts and high fives, but Bill moved through the crowd unimpeded. He stopped a few feet away from Lee and Starbuck, reminded of himself years ago, standing on a hangar deck, a cigar lit with his father's lighter and his squad around him laughing with the flush of victory. _For better or worse, you followed in my footsteps. I almost wish you'd chosen differently... _

Lee tossed the lighter across the gap between them and Bill caught it with a smile of pride.

_But we are a family of war. Today, we survived. _And that was something to celebrate.


	30. Colonial Day

_47 Days After Cylon Attack  
__Coordinates Unknown_

"_It's a puppet Quorum...I predict, every last one will be a Roslin lackey, handpicked by the power behind the throne, Presidential Advisor, Wallace Gray...He is a fatuous gasbag, who's made a fortune through kickback deals that members of this Quorum have profited from..."_

Freedom of the press. There were some days when it felt like it wasn't worth the trouble.

When Laura Roslin was Secretary of Education she'd had her share of problems with the press, even endured a short-lived scandal where an overzealous reporter had tried to implicate her in a fraud investigation. By the end of it, three of her top aides had ended up in prison for embezzlement. She had been cleared of any wrong doing and her gratitude for Richard's support had left her involved with him again. At the time, she'd told herself that the reporter was just doing his job, sometimes it took a while before all the facts were straight. But now, as president, she finally understood how Richard must have felt having to sit by and listen to commentators dissect every decision without context and levy accusations of misconduct against anyone who was a proponent of the administration's goals. Never mind that the only goal of her administration was to keep everyone alive and that without Wally, the reporters trying to tear him apart would have probably starved by now.

But that was a minor problem compared to Tom Zarek.

Out of prison for a few weeks and already he was trading favors for followers. Did he think he could have his revolution now that humanity was composed of little more than a few dozen ships? Or was it just that he liked power and was intent on accumulating as much of it as possible? Regardless, it was clear he considered her an obstacle to be removed. _If he only knew, there's no need for an assassin with a silenced pistol, all he has to do is wait... _Surely twenty years in prison would have taught him patience. _That's what makes him dangerous._

She'd told the people gathered in her office on _Colonial One_that Thomas Zarek was not going to be her Vice President, but it was easier said than done. When she turned to Wally for help he tried to back out, told her that he wasn't a politician. She'd said the same thing to Richard once and believed it, even after she'd been made Secretary of Education. But she and Wally had done this dance many times before. Offer him more responsibility and his first instinct was to evade it, but push and he'd accept. His loyalty would see it through.

"You've got me, Madam President."

He was all that she had left by the time her security team had returned to report the status of their investigation into Zarek's assassin.

Lieutenant Thrace spoke first and didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Valance is dead. His wrists were slashed with broken glass from the room."

"So was it suicide, or was it murder?" asked Billy from his seat by the president's desk.

"It wasn't suicide," answered Roslin. "Zarek had him killed." _And that's the end of that._

While everyone else was still concerned with Valance's death, Laura's focus had shifted to the wireless, to Gaius Baltar's voice and his impassioned defense of her presidency.

"_...History is full of examples of, of leaders, um, who have come from the most humble beginnings and have risen to meet the challenge posed by cataclysmic events. It's very easy for you sit there in your armchairs and criticize Laura Roslin and the tough decisions that she has to make every day..."_

And as he spoke, Laura realized that she'd made a mistake. Despite the fact that her instincts told her Dr. Baltar was not to be trusted, he had a gift for persuasion and as far as the fleet press was concerned he was a genius, charismatic and popular—it's why he'd been chosen as Caprica's representative for the Quorum. Wallace Grey was an established name and the only one she could trust, but for many he was just another hold over from Adar's divisive administration. It was hurting his chances of success. Baltar on the other hand...

Lee's concerns tugged at Roslin's attention. "If he can get to Valance, he can get to anyone. Madam President, he will definitely try and take a shot at you now."

"Only if he wins the vote," she answered. Zarek was too careful to do otherwise.

"Madam President, I still worry the vote may be trending against you."

"Yes, it is." She reached to switch off the wireless. "But I'm going to win this thing and Tom Zarek is going back to his prison ship where he belongs." Roslin stood and put on her glasses. "But first, I have two very unpleasant duties to perform. I need a shuttle to _Cloud Nine_."

-xxx-

Laura waited for Wally outside the Quorum Hall, standing in the warmth of _Cloud Nine's_ fake sun, shoes off so she could feel the grass, eyes closed, trying to clear her mind. How was the press going to interpret Wally's last minute replacement? He had been a candidate for barely a day. More importantly, how was she going to tell him, that even though he was her friend, even though she'd pushed him into this, that now he had to quit? She still didn't have an answer when he found her.

"All that's missing is a breeze," he said and offered her his arm. She forced a smile and led him out of earshot of the Marine guards that had been assigned to protect her. "So, Madam President, I had an idea on how we might get Picon to flip back. I went over the supply transfer logs and while the press is accusing me of kickbacks it turns out Representative Sanne is the one who has been making deals—"

"Wally, stop. I—" _Just get it over with._ "Wally, I need you to drop out of the race."

"But you asked—" He swallowed his protest and sighed. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Health reasons." It's what she would say if she could.

"Oh, right, fine, health reasons." He disengaged his arm and turned to face her. He kept his voice low, but his tone of reproach lost none of its sting. "You know, all of those years I watched you working with Adar, you were always so quiet, so polite. So dignified. I never thought you'd fit in with the bare knuckle, backstabbing politicians. I guess I was wrong."

She didn't flinch, didn't argue and he hesitated, for just a moment, but when she didn't offer up an excuse or an apology, he turned and walked away.

She watched him go. _That wasn't the only thing you were wrong about, Wally._ She had been quiet because she had secrets to keep. Polite because anything else would give people a reason to pry. Dignified, so that no one would suspect that she was the reason Richard had stopped wearing his wedding ring. Not even Wally had guessed, despite being a mutual friend and the fact that Richard had never quite acquired her same knack for lying.

It was that skill that she fully employed once she found Doctor Baltar. A few more fake smiles, an appeal to his ego and she had a new candidate. But at what cost? She told herself it was a matter of survival, not just hers, but everyone's. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she'd made another mistake. _That's the problem with politics, there's no way to win._ There wasn't time for her to regret the decision, however, the vote was tomorrow and she had a new candidate she had to promote. So she arranged for a press release, she lined up meetings with the Quorum delegates and when she finally returned to _Colonial One_, she ignored the empty chair in front of her desk where Wally sat every week when he went over his reports with her. And she ignored the fact that he wasn't on the shuttle with her the next day on her way to _Cloud Nine_.

She didn't allow herself a moment to think until she was left alone in the lobby to the Quorum Hall while her security made one last set of inspections and Billy had gone to prep Gaius for the vote. Laura paced from one end of the room to the other, but she knew she couldn't afford to show any signs of anxiety once she was in the hall, so she forced herself to sit down and she tried her best to silence the protests of her conscience by staring at one of the bland paintings on the wall that were the staple of every hotel and luxury liner. The painting before her was a reprint of a Montclair, at least that's what she guessed, since it shared the same color palette of browns and grays and the same impressionistic brush strokes as the Montclair in Commander Adama's quarters. Except the scene presented here wasn't any of the ones for which the painter had become famous. Instead of a ruined landscape or a battle, the painting was of a wooden ship, stranded in the shallows of some nameless ocean with the sun setting on the horizon behind it. A few months ago, there had probably been dozens of copies of this painting on dozens of ships run by whatever company had owned _Cloud Nine_ and it was nothing special, but now that it was the end of everything, the copy in front of her was priceless. _Funny how things change._

While Laura contemplated the artwork she heard the sound of footsteps on the carpet that came to a stop beside her. She knew without having to look that it was Wally.

"I uh," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I thought I should be here so that the press doesn't get the wrong idea. That is, unless you need me to play sick, then I can go hide in my new suite..." He had moved back to _Cloud Nine_ with his family now that the repairs had been finished.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary." She couldn't meet his gaze just yet. "Thank you for coming." _Thank you for your loyalty._ It was loyalty that comprised Wally's definition of who was a politician and who wasn't. He could still say that he wasn't and believe the lie, she could not. "You know, a long time ago, I used to be a painter, before I became a politician. Turns out it was just as messy and I gave it up, but this—" She stood up, straightened her jacket and turned to face him. "Wally, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "We're all sorry for something."

A knock from the doorway interrupted their reconciliation.

"Madam President, we're ready when you are." Captain Apollo stood in the doorway with Lieutenant Thrace behind him.

"Thank you, Captain." She turned back to Wally. "See you in there?"

He nodded.

Lee and Kara followed her into the tiered hall where the Quorum waited, still bearing the marks of their recent brawl and Laura didn't know whether to be grateful or worried that she had _Galactica's_ two best pilots as an escort. They were targets now too as they stood shoulder to shoulder behind her and if anything happened to them as a result— Laura pushed the thought from her mind and focused on the task ahead of her.

"This meeting of the Quorum of Twelve is to determine the Vice President of the Colonies," she announced. "The votes have been collected and will now be read."

She drew a slip of paper from the box on her podium.

"Caprica, votes for Doctor Gaius Baltar."

Another slip.

"Gemenon votes for Tom Zarek."

As with any close decision, the votes shifted back and forth, some predictable, some not...

Leonis, Doctor Baltar.

Canceron, Tom Zarek.

Libran, Gaius Baltar.

Scorpia, Baltar.

Sagittaron, Zarek.

Tauron, Gaius Baltar.

Virgon, Tom Zarek.

Aquaria,Thomas Zarek.

Aerilon, Tom Zarek.

Six to five in Zarek's favor. She looked up toward his seat on the second tier and tried to gauge his expression. He maintained a semblance of calm, but the way he fiddled with his pencil betrayed his anxiety. _Just how patient are you?_

The last vote was Picon's. Her gaze flicked over to Wally for a sign of what to expect but he only shrugged and she finally looked down at the paper in her hand.

"Picon, votes for Gaius Baltar." It was a tie. Zarek had just lost, but there was no accompanying rush of relief, only a continued sense of foreboding. She was about to incur the wrath of a dangerous criminal and hand a great deal of power to a man whose motives she believed were anything but pure...

"In the event of a tie it is my privilege to decide the casting vote," she said. "The President of the Colonies votes for Candidate Baltar. Doctor Baltar, congratulations, you are now the Vice President Elect of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. The candidate will be sworn in following a brief recess. This concludes the current session of the Quorum of Twelve."

Laura Roslin couldn't help feeling that she had just sold her soul as the closing gavel strike rang in the hall.

-x-

William Adama was late. He'd lost track of time while supervising a training exercise and had just barely gotten out of the shower, toweled off and into his dress grays by the time Saul was knocking at the hatch. He moved to unlock the door and went back to buttoning up his jacket.

"Raptor's prepped and Ellen and I have a date with a glass of Ambrosia," said Colonel Tigh with a smile. Ellen was wrapped around her husband in a manner that made it clear she had already started celebrating.

"Come on Bill," she drawled, "if you don't hurry we'll miss all the fun."

"Yeah, just a second." Where had he left his sash? He went to the back room of his quarters and found it draped over a chair. He pulled it on on his way out the hatch. "Let's get this over with."

Colonial Day had lost its appeal after he'd made Commander and Saul had gotten married. Gone were the days of spending the holiday at an air show or at a boxing match with his friend, instead he'd spent the last several years of Colonial Days with politicians and high ranking officers, trying to survive the boring stories and keep Saul from starting fights when Ellen inevitably wandered away from the bar to dance with some foolish young Major. After he'd fallen out of favor with the Fleet Admirals and had been transferred to _Galactica_, Bill had found excuses to stay aboard ship and spend the day with his pilots.

This time he could have excused himself from going to the festivities by citing the security concerns inherent in having the leaders of the fleet and so many of _Galactica's_ senior staff off ship during a war, but there hadn't been any Cylon contact for over a week and he trusted Captain Kelly to oversee things in their absence. Besides, he told himself, it couldn't possibly be as bad as the last year he'd attended one of the official events. Four years ago he'd had to listen to a gloating speech from Marcus Adar about his successful promotion to admiral, a promotion Marcus had gotten solely on account of his brother's nepotism._ Look where they ended up. Probably nuked by the Cylons in the opening salvo. _Thankfully, by the time they'd landed on _Cloud Nine_ and made their way to the reception room outside the Quorum Hall they'd missed the victory speeches, but not the ensuing party. Ellen went straight for the brightly lit wall of liquor bottles with her husband in tow and after Saul downed a shot of something bright green she pulled the Colonel out onto the dance floor. Bill decided to skip having a drink and instead wandered around the edges of the gathering until he found President Roslin. Two Marines in plainclothes hovered nearby, but she was sitting alone at her table, her glass empty except for the lime at the bottom. Bill almost turned around to go back to the bar and order something for her when he realized if he did that then he'd have to guess what she liked. He opted for a different kind of conversation starter instead.

"Madam President, good evening."

"I thought you hated these things," she said.

"It's Colonial Day, where else would I be?" he countered. "I'm a patriot."

"You really are, aren't you?"

He met her gaze briefly and then looked back toward the crowd in search of something else to say.

"Doctor Baltar... interesting choice."

"I figured, the devil you know."

"Politics. As exciting as war, definitely as dangerous."

"Though in war, you only get killed once." She watched Baltar, but she sounded as if there was something else on her mind. "In politics, it can happen over and over."

"You're still standing." _And you deserve to have a break from your worries._

"So are you."

He smiled. "And I can dance." He swayed a bit from side to side to prove it. She let out a laugh that made him smile wider and Bill offered her his arm.

She accepted and they fell in together with ease, having both attended formal events often enough to acquire the right steps as a matter of habit. When the song changed to something slower Bill Adama held her a little closer than what might have been appropriate for the Commander of the Fleet and the President of the Colonies, but he wasn't thinking of what was appropriate. He was thinking it was Colonial Day and instead of spending it being miserable he was dancing with a beautiful, intelligent woman and he wanted to make her forget everything but this moment, this moment where nothing mattered except for the fact they moved well together. And as he held her hand in his and felt her pressed against him he thought, _if only we'd met in another time and place..._

But he didn't let himself finish the thought and the moment was over when the song ended and she let go of him.

"Thank you for the dance, Commander," she said, her tone disappointingly formal. "I'd love to continue this, but it's been an exhausting day and I should probably get back to _Colonial One_."

"Allow me to escort you to your shuttle." When she hesitated, he added, "I insist."

Laura nodded her assent and he guided her off the dance floor. The commander waved off the Marines that had moved to escort them and led her arm in arm, toward the nearest exit.

"Aren't you still worried Zarek's going to try to kill me?" she asked after they had left the room and they were out in the chill of _Cloud Nine's_ simulated night air.

"He's not that stupid."

"Zarek's not the only threat in the fleet."

"I won't let anything happen to you. I don't want Gaius Baltar to be my president any more than Zarek."

"Tell you a secret?" She leaned into his shoulder with a conspiratorial whisper. "Neither do I."

"Well then Madam President, if you could pick anyone you wanted, who would it be?"

"Billy," she said without hesitation. "I think he could make a good president someday. He's dedicated and honest, almost to a fault. He reminds me of Richard when he was running for his first office."

"President Adar was honest?"

"_President _Adar, no. But when he was just a mayor..." She stopped walking, released his arm and took a deep breath. "Can I ask you a question?"

He stood at ease under the glare of one of the lamps that bordered the sidewalk and took the change of subject in stride.

"Sure."

"How do you do it?" Her gaze traced the line of _Cloud Nine's _horizon. "How do you stay on a ship for months at a time without going crazy? Don't you miss the sun and the breeze and having solid ground under your feet?"

Now it was his turn to confess a secret.

"I could ask how you can stand to stay on the ground. Being planet-side is too quiet, too—still. You see, every ship has a certain vibration," he explained. "Some of them hum, some of them rumble, some of them feel like they're gonna shake themselves apart, and then there are ships like _Galactica...Galactica's _special because she sings."

"Sings?" Her tone betrayed the skepticism of every other planet bound civilian he'd met, but he didn't take it personally.

"Like a siren crooning a lullaby. Once you get used to it always being there, you can't go back."

"Hm, what about this ship? I don't hear anything."

"_Cloud Nine _is a luxury liner so everything's been dampened, but it's still there. This one sounds like the drone from a pyramid game." He could tell from her expression that she didn't believe him. "Close your eyes." She cast a look at him as if to say _this is stupid,_ but she did it anyway. "Now, stop trying to imagine that you're on Caprica and instead concentrate on what's below you. If you relax, you'll feel the vibration and then you'll be able to hear it."

After a few seconds he saw her shoulders drop a bit and her posture loosen.

"Ah, you're right, there it is," she said with a smile. "Though it sounds more like an angry swarm of bees to me." And then her smile faded. "I don't want to get used to being on a ship, Commander."

"Then I guess we'll just have to find Earth."

"We better find it soon."

He didn't ask her what she meant by that, just assumed she must be feeling homesick and they resumed their walk to _Cloud Nine's _shuttle bay. Bill wished her a good night before she departed for _Colonial One _and with his dance partner gone, he didn't feel compelled to return to the party. He had a Raptor take him back to _Galactica._ He went to his quarters, sat down on his couch and poured himself a drink. _To Colonial Day, it wasn't half bad._ At least it was over already. After he'd emptied his glass he leaned back, closed his eyes and let _Galactica _sing him to sleep.


	31. Those Who Stray

_50 Days After Cylon Attack  
__Coordinates Unknown_

Laura was running out of time. Even in her dreams she never had enough. She would always wake up before she reached the end of the corridor, or the clearing in the forest, or whatever it was she wandered through, in search of something she couldn't name, but that was always out of reach. When she was awake she searched through the words in the book of Pythia she had borrowed from Elosha, trying to decide if what was written there was real or if she merely wished it to be. She told herself it was the Chamalla, it was the cancer, it was the mere fact that she was now acutely aware of her own mortality that made her look for meaning in a faith she'd given up on a long time ago. Yet, she couldn't ignore the voice that whispered in the back of her mind,_ how many coincidences does it take_?

The answer turned out to be a planet, discovered entirely by accident. _Or was it fate? _A planet that might be habitable, with a city that for a moment she saw in its past glory instead of the pile of ruins it had become. And Elosha gave it a name. Kobol. The birthplace of mankind. _"__He says we're gonna find Kobol and that it's gonna lead us to Earth." _It couldn't be...

Laura stood up from behind her desk because she couldn't just sit there with this idea that it was all true, that in the few steps she took everything had changed.

"Madam President, what's going on?" asked Billy.

Roslin turned to face him and found she couldn't hold his gaze.

"It's real," she said. She thought the words sounded crazy, but she spoke them anyway. "The scriptures, the myths, the prophecies, they're all real."

It's real.

It's real.

_It's real._

Yet when they went to _Galactica _and Commander Adama was presented with photos of the ruins and Elosha's assertion that this planet was Kobol, he used the words _maybe _and _might_. He didn't know in the way Laura did that there was no doubt, could _be_ no doubt, that it was real. He hadn't heard Leoben's prophetic words, or seen visions of snakes, or read that a dying leader would lead her people to Earth and she couldn't tell him any of those things. He wouldn't believe them. She hardly believed any of it herself, but if it was all real then the path ahead was clear.

So she told him, "We need to talk."

"Sure," he said and with that word of dismissal his quarters were cleared of the others who had been present for the initial briefing on the planetary survey and they were left alone together, sitting at opposite sides of the table.

"Commander Adama, I find myself in need of your help. I need the Cylon Raider. With the discovery of Kobol, Elosha and I have been reviewing the scriptures and there are clues that have been left in the scrolls on how to reach Earth. The key seems to be the Arrow of Apollo. So, according to the scriptures, if we had the Arrow of Apollo we could take it down to Kobol and we could use it to open the tomb of Athena and find our way to Earth."

"I didn't know you were that religious," he replied.

She answered him honestly. "Neither did I. Something wrong with that?"

"No. It's just new." He kept his expression neutral, but she knew he was skeptical and she didn't blame him for it, she would be too. "There is no Earth, you understand that."

"It would seem that we were wrong." One thing she'd learned from her study of history is that even the most outrageous claims often had some small seed of truth. "Commander, just because you and I don't know where it is doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

He sighed.

"Madam President, I'm not trying to mock your faith, so please understand me. These stories about Kobol, gods, the Arrow of Apollo...they're just stories, legends, myths. Don't let it blind you to the reality that we face."

Reality? She wanted to tell him just what her reality was. Death, certain and soon. But if she admitted that she was dying he would use it against her the way she'd used it against herself. He would say irrational decisions are easy to make if you're afraid to die, and that anyone in her place would grab onto anything that gave them a sense of purpose, but she had gone over that argument a thousand times already and the evidence for the truth of the prophecies outweighed her doubts. If the Arrow of Apollo led them to a dead end then they would merely resume their current course of blind flight from the Cylons. But if it was real and they ignored it, the fleet might never find a home.

"Reality is that the Cylon Raider has been successfully jump-tested. Reality is that Cylon technology obviously outstrips our own, and reality is, there is a good chance the Raider can jump all the way back to Caprica and retrieve that arrow and find our way to Earth, the real Earth."

"The Raider's a military asset. I'm not gonna use it to go chasing some mythical arrow. I'm sorry."

She looked at him, his regret was genuine, his disbelief firm. She was sorry too.

She was determined to find a way to persuade him, and she knew she could do it if she had a few days, but all of that changed when one of the survey Raptors jumped back early, reporting the presence of Cylons in orbit around Kobol, one Raptor lost and another in need of rescue. According to Colonel Tigh, Lieutenant Thrace had already come up with a plan, one that would use the Raider to infiltrate the baseship and likely end with the Raider being destroyed. Laura couldn't let that happen, but she knew if she asked the commander to find another way he'd say no, so she left.

"Is there something I should be worried about Madam President?" asked Billy as he followed her through _Galactica's c_orridors.

"Why do you ask that?"

"That look on your face."

"Not now." She had already decided it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Once she had returned to the wardroom that had been assigned for her use, she spread out her copy of the book of Pythia in front of her and ran through the relevant passages again. Just to be sure.

_...For Athena saw that Paradise would be splintered and turned to ash. The tribes that had been sheltered under the protection of the Gods would have to be cast away. And the Lords anointed a leader to guide the caravan of the heavens to their new homeland. And unto the leader, they gave a vision of serpents, numbering two and ten as a sign of things to come..._

_...And into Paradise came war. Though the outcome favored the few, it led to a confrontation at the Home of the Gods. And the Opera House that was their temple burned..._

_...And the Lords were wracked with despair, but none so much as Athena who stood upon the cliffs of Aragon above the place of exodus. And Athena threw herself on the rocks and was buried in a tomb nearby, in the mountains to the west of the City of the Gods. The path was marked by the stones of the dead and the tomb sealed to all but the leaders of the tribes. And the Arrow of Apollo will open the tomb. And the tomb shall reveal the wisdom of Athena who knew the course of the caravan and all the stars where the tribes would be scattered..._

Eventually, Billy became impatient and pressed her for answers.

"Madam President, what are you going to do?"

_...And with the knowledge of the goddess and a beacon to show them the way the caravan found their home but it was not for the leader to enter_ . _For the leader suffered of a wasting sickness and would not live to see the end of the path..._

She looked up from the pages and took a sip of water.

"I'm going to convince Lieutenant Thrace to obey a new set of orders," she said.

"_What?_ Are you insane? Madam President, _the_ most fundamental agreement that you have with Commander Adama is the separation of civilian and military authority! If you do this, it could threaten everything that we've accomplished. It will probably bring down the government and you don't have a right to risk that for a—"

Billy tried to reign in his outrage, but Laura had told him not to apologize for his opinion ever, to speak his mind and so she told him to go on.

"...For a drug induced vision of prophecy," he said.

"I am well aware of that." She'd weighed the consequences at least a dozen times in the last five minutes alone. "But it would seem that the Gods have a different plan." The consequences didn't matter, because she was running out of time. "Would you please get me Lieutenant Thrace."

"Can I get you some more water?" She didn't know if it was resignation, support, or just habit that had prompted him to ask.

"Yes, thanks."

After he left, her fingers rubbed at the headache that had begun to take hold in her right temple. It was either because she hadn't had any Chamalla for the last four hours and withdrawal was setting in, or it was from the incessant hum of _Galactica's _engines. Whatever the case, she had managed to force the pain into the background by the time Billy ushered in Kara Thrace and left them alone.

"Lieutenant Thrace, I understand there's a Cylon threat in orbit around Kobol that needs to be dealt with and that you have a plan to address it?"

"Yeah, the transponder we installed on the Raider should let me get close enough to shove a nuke down their frakkin' throats. At least that's the basic idea, Madam President."

"That sounds very risky."

"Yeah, well I'm good with risk."

"Lieutenant Thrace, forgive me for being direct, but before we can rescue our people on the surface of Kobol, I need you to take the Cylon Raider to Caprica and bring back the Arrow of Apollo."

"You can't be serious."

"All of this has happened before and all of this will happen again, the Cylon you interrogated, he quoted that bit of scripture. He also said we would find Kobol and Kobol would show us the way, did he not?"

"Yes, he did."

"Well, we found Kobol."_ And you told me Leoben wasn't afraid to die, but that he was just afraid his soul wouldn't make it to god. I wonder, can the same be said of you?_ "Do you believe in the Gods, Lieutenant?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I believe."

"Lieutenant, I'm not trying to put you on the defensive, I just—I would like you to think this through with me. If you believe in the Gods, then you believe in the cycle of time, that we are all playing our parts in a story that is told again, and again, and again, throughout eternity..."

"That's the way I was raised, but that doesn't mean my part in the story is to go off on some crazy ass mission against orders."

Now came the risky part of Laura's gamble.

"May I tell you that part of the story that it would seem I am playing?" She took a breath and confessed. "I am dying."

"What?"

"I have terminal breast cancer. I have six months at the outside to live and I've only told three people, so I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

And with a quiet, "Of course," the defiance that so defined Kara Thrace had vanished. "Are you saying that you're―"

"The scriptures tell us that a dying leader led humanity to the promised land. If you go back to Caprica and bring me the arrow, I will show us the way."

"This is crazy."

"People keep using that word." _Even me._ "It is crazy, perhaps. But it doesn't mean it isn't true. And it may be our only chance, our _only_ chance to find Earth."

Kara's defiance resurfaced with a vengeance and Laura worried that she'd overstepped.

"The Old Man is our last chance to find Earth. He knows where it is, he said so, _you were there_. The location is a secret, but he is _going_ to take us there."

Roslin pushed herself up from her seat and braced herself on the table in front of her.

"Commander Adama, has no idea where Earth is. He never did. He made it up in order to give people hope." She'd warned him they would never forgive him for the truth.

"You're lying." The automatic response of someone loyal.

"Go ask him." The voice that planted a nagging seed of doubt.

"I will."

After the lieutenant left, Roslin arranged for a shuttle to take her back to _Colonial One._ _Galactica _wasn't safe anymore. As soon as Commander Adama realized that Laura had betrayed his secret he'd be angry with her, but regardless of their agreement the President of the Colonies was the supreme authority in the fleet and William Adama was a good man. He may not believe in gods, or that legends might be real after all, but she knew he believed in the democracy that he'd defended for years. He would bow to her authority like any good soldier. At least, that's what she hoped for. She knew hope was not liable to save her, so she took what precautions she could to mitigate the worst case scenario where he might try to depose her. She briefed the press and kept them nearby. Her security team locked down the ship and monitored the wireless bands.

Ready, Laura Roslin waited for her time to run out.

-x-

_"I believed in you, believed in Earth."_

"What are doing Starbuck?"

_"Bringing home the cat, sir."_

_I believed in you... _

Kara's accusation of betrayal still rang in Commander Adama's ears as he brought accusations of his own to bear against President Roslin.

"Madam President, moments ago Lieutenant Thrace took the Cylon Raider on an unscheduled and unauthorized jump." Bill's father had taught him that during a cross examination a good lawyer only asked questions he already knew the answer to and he knew that this was Roslin's doing, but he had to ask. He had to be sure. "Do you have any knowledge of this incident?"

Roslin's voice was empty of contrition.

_"Let's save some time here, Commander. The question you really want to ask me is whether or not I asked Lieutenant Thrace to take the Raider to Caprica, and the answer to that question is yes."_

"You and I talked about this." _We had an agreement. _

_"Yes, we had." And you broke it._

"We both decided it was a military decision." _I trusted you to support me. _

_"My responsibility as president is, first and foremost, to protect and preserve this fleet and its future. In the end, that outweighs any other consideration. It has to."_

_Well that's my responsibility too. _

"By taking the Raider, you've placed our people on the surface of Kobol in direct danger." _This is treason. _

_"I'm very aware of the danger our men and women are in on Kobol. I am also deeply aware of the danger this civilization will_ be _in if I ignore the pursuit of this arrow."_

Bill looked to Saul who was listening in on the conversation, but the colonel only shared the same grim expression as his commander and gave no indication on what he thought was the right course of action.

_There's only one way to deal with treason..._

"Madam President, I'm going to have to ask you for your resignation."

_"No."_

"Then I'm terminating your presidency as of this moment."

_"Commander Adama, I will exercise the authority of this office until I am unable to do so, so if you want to stage a coup, you're gonna have to come over here and arrest me."_

"I don't want any bloodshed." _If somebody dies the blood will be on your hands not mine. _

_"Of course you don't. Neither do I. Neither does the press. They're here by the way."_

"The press..." he muttered. _Frak. _

_"They're recording every minute."_

He hung up the handset, taking care not to slam it back into cradle, he had to appear in control even if everything was falling apart. Bill tried to give himself a second to think, but he was only reminded of the meeting he and Roslin had had after the attacks on the colonies.

_"You planning to stage a military coup?"_ she'd asked. _"Do you plan to declare martial law, take over the government?" _

_"Of course not."_

He hadn't planned to do what he'd just done either. The last time he'd seen her before all this insanity started they had been dancing and walking arm in arm and talking. _Almost as if we were friends_. But now she had pushed them to the edge, and had turned Kara—_Kara—_against him. _How could she?_ Then he remembered, Roslin had done this before, spied on him on his own ship, undermined his authority. _This is the last time I let you do this to me. _

Commander Adama made his way down to the lower deck of the CIC.

"Order the CAP to isolate _Colonial One_," he said when he caught sight of Lee. "Mister Gaeta, jam any transmissions in or out of _Colonial One_ immediately." He looked to his XO. "Prepare a strike team. As long as she's president, she's dangerous and if she can turn Starbuck against us, she's capable of anything."

"Yes, sir."

"She's bluffing." _She has only as much power as I agree to give her. If I take it away she'll surrender. _

"Let's hope so," replied Saul. "There's also a Cylon baseship out there to deal with."

He hadn't forgotten. "Leave that to me." He checked first with his tactical officer. "Mister Gaeta..."

"Sir?"

"Am I correct in assuming that I have two Cylon transponders left?"

"Yes, sir, but only one of them is fully functional."

"One will do." Starbuck's plan was still workable. "Now I need a pilot." He found the nearest handset and got Cottle on the line.

"Doc, what's Lieutenant Valerii's current condition?"

"Damn lucky." There was a pause as the doctor took a drag from his cigarette. "She's gonna have a nasty scar the rest of her life, but she'll live. So long as she doesn't do anything else stupid. She's conscious and resting. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my shuttle." Cottle hung up before Adama had a chance to reply.

Bill made one last call, to the hangar deck. He gave Chief Tyrol instructions to prep Boomer's Raptor and have Racetrack standing by, then he headed for sickbay.

The initial incident report that the commander had received concerning Lieutenant Valerii was simply that she'd accidentally shot herself while cleaning her gun. That she'd made a mistake and had forgotten to check the chamber for the live round that had been left there. But in the brief unguarded moment between when he walked into the room and when she caught sight of him, he could see the truth. It hadn't been an accident. The mistake she'd made was that she must have flinched when she'd squeezed the trigger. It didn't matter now. An effective commander couldn't shy away from using every available resource to achieve an objective, even if that resource was a few steps away from suicidal. _That's what Spec Ops have always required anywqy... _

Boomer had stood to acknowledge him.

"Sir."

"As you were." He closed a curtain around them for some semblance of privacy. "How you feeling?"

"It looks worse than it is, sir." Despite the gunpowder burns that covered nearly half of her face, she sounded perfectly normal. _So it's _worse_ than it looks_.

"Things are moving very quickly and I need every pilot." _Even the broken ones_.

"I'm ready, sir."

"I have a very special mission for you and I won't kid around. It's high risk, extremely high risk." _Odds are you'll die this time. _

"I understand."

"I need you to light-jump to Kobol and take care of this basestar. We're placing a Cylon transponder aboard your Raptor. In theory, it should allow you to approach the basestar without getting fired upon."

"But we'll still be ID'ed as Colonial Raptors once we're in visual range." She was still thinking tactics, like any other soldier. _Good. If you can do that, maybe you'll even come back. _

"For all they know, you could be two Cylon agents returning with a captured Raptor. Once you're inside the defense perimeter, I need you to make them think you wanna dock. You have to fire your nuke into the loading bay, then jump back home immediately. Do you understand?"

"I understand. I can do it, sir. I know I can."

"You have to." If she failed, they wouldn't get another chance.

She held his gaze, steady and fearless.

"Yes, sir."

She would complete her mission. _Straight as an arrow._

By the time Commander Adama returned to the CIC both of the missions he'd initiated were underway and their outcomes were out of his hands. Still, he gave Boomer and Racetrack some last words of encouragement. _I have faith, in you. _

He gave Roslin one last chance to back down. _Don't make me do this. _But she refused him.

"The president says she will not yield."

And thus Zeus declared, "So be it."

In three words he went from commander to king. Now he waited. Waited to learn who would live and who died, who was loyal and who had yet to betray him, who would succeed and who would fail. After what felt like hours, the answers came in the same way the questions had started, all at once.

"Sir, I have Colonel Tigh on the line," announced Dualla.

"Put him through directly." Adama picked up the handset in front of him. "Sitrep."

"No casualties. Marines are escorting Roslin aboard one of the Raptors now, but Bill—" Saul took an audible breath before he continued. "Lee mutinied, almost triggered a bloodbath. He put his weapon right to my head, said to tell you he was following his instincts, whatever the hell that means."

Bill wished he was surprised that his son had turned against him as well, but the truth was, a part of him had expected it to happen. Lee had tried have everything both ways for as long as he could, but the fact was he'd sided with Roslin from the first. _"The president has given me a direct order."_ Lee had just taken the next step across the line. _Sooner or later every man has to decide for themselves which side they're on._

"Bring him here."

"What about Roslin?"

"We put her in the brig." He returned the handset to its cradle. One more mission to go.

A moment later Gaeta called out, "Dradis contact... It's Boomer and Racetrack, sir."

"Put 'em on the speakers."

"Galactica, Boomer. Mission accomplished. Repeat, mission accomplished. The basestar is history."

_Yes!_

"There's some good news." A moment of relief, but only a moment. "Bring 'em home Dee." _Now to finish things with Roslin.._.

When Commander Adama reached the brig he found Saul waiting inside with a Marine and the now former president. Laura Roslin stood across from the colonel, her hands loosely clasped in front of her with an expression of perfect aplomb._ Still as dignified as ever. _

"Open cell," said Bill.

Once the door had been opened, Roslin walked across the room without comment or protest into the cell and turned to face him.

Although a part of him wanted to, he didn't ask what she'd been thinking, how she could do this after all the progress they'd made. She'd already made herself more than clear in regards to her motives.

"Close cell," he said. From the way she kept her eyes on him as the bars slid shut and the lock was pushed home with a resounding clang, he could tell she was going to continue to challenge him, that she wasn't planning on staying where she was. That somehow she'd find a way to free herself without the keys to the lock. He almost believed it and he could still feel her gaze on the back of his neck as he turned and walked away.

Bill returned to the CIC to find that Boomer and Racetrack were already waiting for him. Lee stood with his wrists bound together, Marines flanking him on either side. The commander stopped and looked at his son, but Lee offered no apologies either. _Following your instincts huh? Well there's such a thing as loyalty too. _And Bill moved past him to offer praise to his pilots who'd followed their orders and returned successful from their mission. They had neutralized the Cylon threat without having to risk the _Galactica_ or the fleet and both of them had come back alive.

"Congratulations to both of you," he said. "You carried out a very difficult and dangerous mission and you did it despite any personal misgivings you may or may not have had." _These are good soldiers who do what they're told. _He shook Racetrack's hand and thanked her.

"Thank you, sir," she replied with a smile.

He turned to Boomer. She was smiling as much as her injury allowed and he smiled back.

"Thank you, sir."

He responded with a thank you of his own, but it was cut short as a sharp pain erupted in his torso. He staggered. He couldn't breathe.

The last thing Bill Adama felt was his back hit the edge of the command table and then he was falling.

_I believed in you..._

_From the darkness you must fall,_

_Failed and weak,_

_To darkness all—_

* * *

AN: Just wanted to give a huge thank you for the reviews, they've helped give me the motivation to push on. Much as I hate to leave things on a cliffhanger (okay maybe I don't hate it as much you do) I figure it's only fair to warn I have a couple other writing projects and a drawing that desperately needs my attention before I can hammer out the next chapter. I expect those other projects will take about a week then I'll be back spending my wee hours rewatching scenes frame by frame and writing straight through the night, I promise. See you on the other side.


	32. A Razor's Edge

_51 Days After Cylon Attack  
__Coordinates Unknown_

The hatch to the brig opened and Laura was on her feet when she heard the sound of Lee's voice.

"Get your hands off me, I don't need your frakking help to walk." He stepped through the doorway alone and strode into the open cell next to hers. As the cell door was pushed closed she caught sight of his hands and his arms, he was smeared in blood up to his elbows. Was it his?

She gripped the bars that separated them. "Captain, what have they done to you? What's going on?"

"My father's been shot."

"What?" she gasped in a harsh whisper. Shot? _No._... She had to use the frame of the cell to hold herself upright. _No..._

Lee shoved his bound hands through a slot in the bars. "Someone get this frakking thing off me, please?"

"I'm not authorized to do that yet," replied the Marine guarding them.

"I'm behind the frakkin' bars!"

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

"Captain." She forced herself to speak around the lump of fear that had formed in her throat. "How bad is your father?"

"Bad." Lee stopped pacing and sat down on the cot in the middle of his cell. The light above him made the blood on his hands glisten like wet paint. "Two bullets in the chest."

"Is Doctor Cottle with him?"

"No, Doc Cottle's not on board."

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

"Who—Who did this? How did this happen?"

"It was Boomer." Boomer. Laura remembered the callsign. It belonged to a lieutenant who had been found by _Colonial One _not long after the attacks. Valerii was her name. She had helped gather dozens of civilian ships, had found the water that kept the fleet alive. _Why would she shoot Commander Adama?_

Lee stared floor in front of him, his voice quiet. "My father was congratulating her for completing Starbuck's mission when she pulled out her sidearm and—For no reason, she just—" He looked up at Roslin. "I guess she must have been a Cylon."

Laura turned away, unable to bear the anguish she saw in his eyes. _This is my fault. _If she hadn't convinced Starbuck to go back to Caprica another pilot wouldn't have been called upon to take her place. _It wasn't supposed to happen this way..._

There wasn't anything she could do to fix it now. So she sat down on her cot and let the background hum of the _Galactica's _engines fill the silence. It wasn't long, however, before Laura felt the nausea inducing tug of an FTL jump and she was on her feet again. _Oh, no. No, no no!_

She closed her eyes and tried to focus. _Stay calm. You can think of a way out of this. _But every time she tried, the words of Pythia came rushing into her mind. _And t____he body of each tribe's leader was offered...that their sacrifice would appease the gods... _There had been no prophetic warning that her choices would sacrifice so many, that it would leave humanity on the brink. Because without William Adama that's where the fleet was, where she was, left teetering on the edge of the abyss.

There was a knock at the hatch and their Marine guard got up from his table to answer it.

"You can't be here," he said to whoever had knocked.

"I'm the President's aide, I have every right to be here." It was Billy. Her last remaining ally. ___Billy, thank the gods._

"I'm sorry, but—"

Laura called out to the guard. "Corporal?" He glanced over his shoulder at her. "It is Corporal isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"Corporal, if I may ask, what's your name?"

"Venner, ma'am."

"Corporal Venner, did you receive orders that I was to be denied my article seventeen rights?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then I believe I have a visitor..." She motioned toward the hatch.

The corporal said nothing, but he nodded and stepped aside to let Billy through.

Her aide stopped in the middle of the room when he saw Lee in the cell beside her.

"I take it you know about the commander," he said. She nodded. "It's been pretty chaotic since, but from what I've overheard, Commander Adama's in sickbay and Colonel Tigh jumped the ship to our emergency coordinates, but—Madam President, we've lost the civilian fleet. "

___Lost?_

"My gods...How could—? It doesn't matter. We've got to jump back. We can't stay here. Lieutenant Thrace won't be able to find us once she retrieves the arrow from Caprica." And what if the fleet jumps back to try and find the Galactica?

"If she retrieves the arrow," replied Bill doubtfully.

"She'll retrieve the arrow." She has to. There was hope as long as Kara was out there, but Laura needed more than that she needed help. She turned to Lee. "Captain, you've got to get reinstated. You've got to get back to CIC, gotta denounce me, disavow me, do whatever you need to do. Colonel Tigh cannot relocate this fleet on his own without your father." If anyone can find them again...

"Tigh's not letting me out of here," he countered. "I put a gun to his head. He won't forget that anytime soon."

"I am so sorry that I got you into this, Captain." She had already burdened him with her secrets, had put him in a position that set him against his father more than once and used that relationship to benefit herself. It had cost Lee his father's trust, and maybe even his father's life. Now she was asking for more.

"No, don't apologize," he said. "I knew what I was doing, I—and I didn't do it for you. I did it for...well, actually, I did it for nothing, turns out."

"That's not true. You took a stand."

"And now look at us." The dullness in his tone and his hunched posture made it clear that he'd given up. She couldn't let him.

"Lee, look at me. Your father told me it's not enough to live, you have to have something to live for. That's why he lied to his crew, to the fleet, about Earth, but it's not a lie anymore. You have your ideals to live for and it may not have led to the outcome you were trying to achieve, but that's not your fault, it's mine. And no one, not Colonel Tigh, not me, not your father, can blame you for obeying the dictates of your conscience. If humanity is to do more than just survive, you can not give that up."

He sighed. "It doesn't make much difference right now does it? There's nothing I can do about it."

"Yes, there is. We can get you out of here." Laura turned back to her aide. "Billy, could you please contact the CIC and inform Colonel Tigh that I'd like to speak with him."

Corporal Venner didn't interfere as Billy picked up the brig's phone and called the CIC. Lieutenant Dualla must have been the one who answered because Billy had to specify that he wasn't making a social call, and was instead relaying a presidential request. The response from Colonel Tigh was as expected. No. And for the first time in a very long time, Laura Roslin had to fight down the urge to hit something. She did not have time for this. To be locked in a cell, while the fleet was missing, with Galactica's commander in sickbay and the XO doing gods know what. Commander Adama may not have wanted Gaius Baltar for a president, but she sure as frak didn't want Colonel Tigh for a commander either.

Laura took to alternating bouts of pacing and attempts to sit calmly that only led to more pacing. No one in the room spoke, there wasn't any reason to. Billy stayed, to do what and for why Laura didn't know, except maybe to show his solidarity by staying or maybe because he had nowhere else to go.

Eventually, Colonel Tigh came down to the brig with a group of Marines and by then Laura was almost happy to see him. ___Finally some progress._

"Just what was so godsdamned important?" he growled to Lee without even glancing in Laura's direction.

Lee rose to his full height and addressed the colonel.

"I want to offer terms for my parole."

"If you think I'm letting you out of that cell—"

"_Galactica_ needs a CAG and I'm the best pilot you have left. You need me to help find the civilian fleet."

"How did—? Never mind. I'm not doing this." Tigh turned to leave.

"Colonel! Colonel, I made a mistake. If we don't find the fleet my father will die. I can't just do nothing—Colonel, please."

Tigh stopped. He sighed. "Open his cell."

Lee stepped out and moved to face him.

"Remove his restraints."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"Let me make one thing clear, you make one wrong move or try to let Roslin out of that cell, then the next time your father sees you it'll be behind bars on the Astral Queen with your buddy Zarek, you understand?"

"All right." He held out his arms for the guard to uncuff him. "You have my parole. When I'm on duty, I'll make no attempt to free her or sow insurrection among the crew." Lee rubbed his hands together, trying to scrape away the dried blood, but it didn't do any good. "When I'm not on duty, I'll report directly back to this cell."

"Pre-flight brief is underway in the ready room."

"Right."

The hatch was opened and Laura called out to him before he stepped through.

"Good hunting, Captain."

"Thank you, Madam President." His words were more than a statement of defiance, they were also words of assurance, Captain Apollo wasn't going to give up. For the moment that was enough.

"Colonel, once you find the fleet, I'd like to have a word with you."

"There's nothing to talk about," replied Tigh. "You went up against the Old Man and you lost." The hatch clanged shut at his departure and Laura felt her frustration come flooding back.

This time, she managed to stifle the urge to pace and resigned herself to waiting. How long was it? Half an hour? An hour? She didn't know when she felt the tug of ___Galactica _transitioning into another FTL jump. It wasn't important, the fact that the vibrations under her feet had changed, that was important. First it was a shudder that seemed to run through the floor at regular intervals. The salvo fire of ___Galactica's_ main batteries perhaps? Then it was a sudden shift as everything rattled and the lights flickered.

The only other time she'd been aboard the ___Galactica _during combat was when they staged the attack on the Tylium asteroid and the Vipers had borne the brunt of that particular engagement. She didn't know whether this was normal or a sign that the Cylons were about to destroy them. She surmised that it might closer to the latter when Corporal Venner asked her to pray with him. He knelt in front of the cell and offered his hands through the bars. She accepted because what else could she do?

He closed his eyes. "Help us, Lords of Kobol. Help your prophet Laura guide us to the path of righteousness." And as he continued Laura Roslin realized that whoever had assigned Corporal Venner to this post had made a most profound error. This soldier who professed his faith might be swayed, given time, to believe that those appointed over him had not only issued unlawful orders, but that they no longer deserved his obedience. "Help us turn away from the calls of the wicked and show us the knowledge of your certain salvation. We offer this prayer. So say we all."

He opened his eyes and she smiled around the discomfort she felt with this faith that she still could not wholly embrace. "So say we all."

Moments later there was one final, violent, tremor and the ship jumped away to safety.

Corporal Venner released her hands and rose from his knees.

"Thank you, Madam President."

"You're welcome, Corporal."

Billy released his grip on the bars beside him and straightened his jacket. "Well, at least the worst seems to be over for now," he said.

She hoped he was right, but their reprieve didn't last very long. The lights flickered despite the end of the battle and then they went out altogether.

"Guess I was wrong," he breathed.

Everything went quiet, the kind of quiet that causes a prickling sensation on the back of the neck in that brief moment before something goes suddenly, terribly wrong. The minutes slid and stretched on into timelessness until there was another flicker and the dim glow of the emergency lighting brought a sense of relief, but the quiet remained. Corporal Venner fumbled with his vest pockets and pulled out a small flashlight, its thin light was small comfort, but it was better than nothing. A muffled burst of noise from the corridors outside finally shattered the tension in the air like a cord pulled too taut that had finally snapped.

"Are those gunshots?" asked Billy.

"Yeah," confirmed the corporal.

"We can't stay in here."

"Open the door," said Laura, her voice low and in harmony with the quiet but no less authoritative.

"You know I can't do that Madam President." If he really thought of her as his president then he'd follow her orders.

"Corporal Venner, I have no intention of being locked in this cell and shot like a rat in a cage. Open the door!"

He looked at her, trying to gauge her intentions and then moved to unlock the cell. No sooner had she stepped out and thanked him than the lock on the brig hatch began to turn.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!"

"Corporal Venner, don't shoot!" Laura was blinded by the flashlights shining into the brig, but she recognized Lee's voice. "It's Captain Adama. I have a fire team with me."

Venner lowered his rifle. "Come on in, Captain."

The first thing Laura noticed was that Lee and the pilot who came in with him both had blood all over their faces. _Someday it's going to be his own_ she thought_._ But there was no time to dwell on the idea.

"We've been boarded," Lee panted. "This deck is crawling with Cylons. They're trying to get to the magazines."

"How can we help?" she asked.

"Stay alive and don't get shot. Leave the Cylons to us." Lee turned to Venner. "Okay, sickbay is the safest spot. It's the farthest away from any potential targets, and it's designed to function as a disaster shelter in case the ship were lost." He gestured to one of the Marines. "Bonnington, sidearm."

The Marine tossed a weapon to Captain Apollo who then presented it to Laura's aide.

"Okay, Billy, you ever handled a weapon before?"

"A pellet gun from my uncle when I was, like, ten."

"Principle's the same. The real ones just make a bigger noise." Lee reached for his own sidearm and held it out to Roslin. "Madam President."

Laura waved him off. "No, thank you. I can't." She had never even held a gun before and knew that she'd be more of a danger to those with her than the Cylons if she had one in her possession.

Lee had already moved on to the next set of instructions with the efficiency and decisiveness of a well trained officer._ He's his father's son..._

"...Remember, just head away from the sound of gunfire."

"What about you?"

"Well, we're heading towards the gunfire," he replied. With that he rounded up the rest of his team and prepared them to move out.

"Good luck, Captain," offered Laura before he was gone. "May the Lords protect you." It was a prayer she knew neither of them believed in, but it seemed the right thing to do.

"You too. Okay let's go!"

They moved out into the darkened corridors and Laura knew she should be afraid. They could run into the Cylons at any moment and though she had two Marines and Billy for protection, it wasn't likely to be enough. Yet she wasn't afraid, what was the fear of pain or death to someone who was already dying? In its place was clarity, sharp as a razor's edge, and she held onto it because it gave her strength. It kept her calm, even when they reached a room that must have been the source of the gunshots that they had heard in the brig. They found corpses draped over crates and slumped against the walls, blood everywhere in pools and sprayed across the floor, but it didn't stop Laura from checking for signs of life from the nearest body. As it turned out, the only survivor of the massacre was Petty Officer Dualla, injured and dazed, hand wrapped around the handle of the hatch that she must have just opened when the Cylons came through.

Billy rushed to Dualla's side, but when she was unresponsive he started to panic.

The people in this room with Laura, the ones left alive, they needed her to be a leader so that's what she was. She told Billy to try using Dualla's rank to break the petty officer out of her state of shock and when Corporal Venner lost his way, Laura kept him focused._ It's your job to keep me from getting shot, but it's mine to keep you alive._

"Give me your eyes. Look at me. Corporal. We don't want to walk into gunfire. We wanna go away from the Cylons, now clear your head. Come on."

"We can go only...all the way on the starboard side. It's a lot farther."

"Good. Starboard. Let's go."

By the time they had made it starboard Laura was having trouble catching her breath. Her body didn't have the same strength as the rest of her, she had to fight just to stay standing. When they encountered a hatch that wouldn't open she was almost amenable to the idea of just going back to her cell to lie down and if the Cylons should happen to find her so be it, but she knew she had to keep going.

"All right, Corporal Venner, this is your ship. I'm just a tourist. Find us another way to sickbay," she asked amid the muted echo of gunfire.

"Okay, uh...okay, we have to head toward aft damage control."

"Aft damage control, all right."

She followed him back into the corridors, but as they walked, the sounds of gunfire grew louder instead of fading.

"Wait." She stopped to listen, but there was no way to know what direction the noise was coming from.

"Take cover, take cover," whispered Venner.

They found a place to hide just off the main corridor and as Laura rested with her back to the wall everything went quiet again. But it was only for a moment, then she heard it, the thudding of heavy metal feet moving toward them. The sound reverberated off the walls, the rhythm of footsteps adding a new vibration to others underneath her feet. She caught a glimpse of two Centurions as they passed by and everyone with her scrambled to put more than a single wall between them and the Cylons.

In the confusion a gunshot rang out.

It was Billy. He'd accidentally fired the sidearm he still gripped in his hand and now he stood motionless in the doorway. The Cylons stopped and turned around. Billy stumbled backwards, exposed and in the line of fire. No time to think—Laura caught hold of Billy's jacket and pulled him down onto the deck beside her as the Centurions opened fire.

The impact with the floor sent a jolt of pain through her, her breath caught in her lungs. She couldn't move.

A human voice yelled "Fire!" and the corridor echoed with the noise of bullets and shattering glass, the thunderous report of explosive rounds. All she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and struggle to breathe while churning metal bit into the walls around her. It was deafening and in one final burst of noise and screeching metal it was over.

She exhaled and lifted her head. It was over.

"Hey, hey..." Corporal Venner moved to help her up. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She looked to her left to see Billy climbing to his feet, stunned and more than a bit embarrassed, but whole.

"Have you been shot?" asked the corporal as she leaned on him for support.

"No...no, I don't think so." She found her footing and took another breath. "No, I'm fine."

He didn't seem convinced though and reached down to examine her blazer, his fingers found two holes in the fabric, from bullets that had just missed her. Presented with the evidence of death's presence beside her, she felt the cold rush of fear, but she forced the feeling aside with all the others she couldn't afford to feel.

"Oh."

"The gods must be watching over you."

The corporal's words reminded her of how, years ago, her mother had said something much the same. "_May the Lords watch over you." _Perhaps they had been watching all along...

"Madam President?"

Lee shambled into view with a pilot and one of _Galactica's _deckhands behind him.

"I thought I told you to head _away_ from the sound of the gunfire. What are you doing here?"

Corporal Venner began to explain, but Laura silenced him a wave of her hand.

"Long story," she said. "We should get to sickbay. Petty Officer Dualla may need stitches." Of course the real reason Laura wanted to get to sickbay was because she wanted to see Commander Adama.

What she saw under the harsh white lights of the infirmary was the end of the chain of dominoes stretching back to her decision to follow Pythia. All she could think was that he didn't look at all like the man who'd stubbornly told her that he wouldn't have a computerized network on his ship, or the man who had shaken her hand and called her Madam President, who had lied to give his people hope and who endured pomp and protocol to make a gesture. The man unconscious on the table before her was not the man who gave books as a gift or smiled and danced with her on Colonial Day. He was just a man as vulnerable as any other. _You're not supposed to die before me. You can't._

"Doc Cottle's on his way," said Colonel Tigh as he came to stand beside her. "He'll be here any minute."

Roslin looked to Lee first.

"He gonna be all right, you know that."

"Yeah. Yeah, I-I know that." He didn't believe her, but it was hard to sound convincing when she wasn't sure she believed it either.

"Colonel, I assume there's still a cell out there waiting for me." She wasn't eager return to the brig that she had just left, but if she was going to leave it she wanted it to be because Commander Adama had released her.

"That's right."

One more breath to steady herself. "Corporal Venner, I'm ready."

She glanced back at Adama's prone form one last time before she followed Venner out of sickbay. _Don't you dare die. _

_I can't do this all alone._

* * *

Author's Note: Another round of National Novel Writing Month is set to begin on November 1st so this is likely to be the last update until December. I've found it hard to put this story down (those other projects still didn't get finished, oops!) now that I'm in the thick of things I expect I'll try to squeeze out a few words and phrases in addition to the other 50,000 I have to write for NaNo, but as those will take priority, no promises. Thank you all for your kind words, and especially your patience and faith. I hope to find you waiting for me on the other side of the jump.


	33. No Matter What You Do

_54 Days After Cylon Attack  
Coordinates Unknown_

_Is this the shape of things to come...? _

_Only one thing for it then— _

Bill Adama woke with a gasp.

He couldn't breathe.

Pain was a line of fire down his chest and across his torso, but his lower body felt cold, like he'd been standing too long in waist deep water.

The more he tried to get air the more it hurt.

Panic gripped him as he fought against a pair of hands that held him down.

"Easy, easy—Doctor! He's awake—Hey, calm down, it's okay, you're okay."

His struggling subsided once conscious thought caught up with his body's reaction of distress. A few slow, shallow breaths and he found he could breathe around the pain, but frak—his chest ached and he had to close his eyes until they adjusted to the lights.

What happened?

It took a second for him to realize that he hadn't actually spoken. He swallowed and tried again.

"What happened?" he croaked.

"You were shot," replied Cottle. "Two bullets."

That much he'd figured out already. He remembered the impact, a familiar sensation from having been shot before, but the last time he'd taken a few rounds he had been wearing tactical gear and it had felt more like getting hit with a sledgehammer, less like having been run through with a white hot poker.

"How—How long have I—?"

"Three days."

Bill pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Hey, hey, just what the frak do you think you're doing?"

He didn't respond, instead he sat perfectly still, his teeth ground together as pain arced across his body and his vision pulsed dark. _"Do you believe in destiny..." No._ When the sensation had faded down to a dull ache, Bill looked up at the doctor.

"Get me a Marine escort," he said, "and something to wear."

"You're in no condition to leave the infirmary."

Adama forced himself to sit up straighter and resisted the urge to wrap his arm across his stomach.

"My ship hasn't had a commander for three days, I can't stay here."

Cottle tried to assure him that his ship and the fleet had survived intact without him, but Bill could tell from the way the doctor was ignoring the burning cigarette in his hand that he was trying to hide something.

"You need rest," insisted Cottle.

"I've had enough rest." The doctor met Bill's glare with one of his own, but Cottle flinched when his neglected cigarette started to burn his fingers.

"Ah, frak." He snubbed out the cigarette. "All right," he said with a huff. He turned to the medic who had been hovering nearby. "Ishay, find him something and call down a couple of Marines. If the commander wants to leave, let's see him try." He threw one last glare at Adama and then walked away, grumbling something that sounded like "damn fool."

Bill was being foolish, he knew. He shouldn't be sitting up, much less trying to leave. It wouldn't take more than a phone call to have Saul come down to sickbay and brief him, but something pressed, a shadow, a whisper in the back of his mind—fear—that if he didn't get up now he might not be able to later, that if he rested and fell asleep, he might end up trapped in the dark, unable to wake. He didn't want to just sit here with his pain and his fear and the jumble of thoughts that plagued him between one throbbing heartbeat and the next. _"Do you believe in destiny?...It catches up with you...No matter what you do..."_ He forced his mind to concentrate on something else by examining the bandages that covered nearly half his chest. The slightest pressure from his fingers around any of those bandages left him holding his breath with his eyes squeezed shut. It was like trying to breathe with lungs full of glass shards, so when Ishay returned with a robe and a full set of tanks he knew not to bother with anything above the waist.

She set the pile of clothes down next to him, stepped outside the boundary of the curtain around his bed and pulled it closed to give him some privacy. It took a couple of tries and a steady stream of curse words, but he managed to change into a fresh pair of boxers and get his arms into the robe. Once he managed that, he looked around to find his glasses folded neatly on the bedside table. Even though they were only for reading, he picked them up and put them on. When he looked at his surroundings everything seemed a little sharper, a little clearer. He was alive. This was real. _I'm okay._ So he tried to stand for longer than a second and take a few steps, but the floor felt like it was shifting underneath him... _"You can't fight destiny...It catches up..."_

"Commander?" Ishay's cautious inquiry was followed the curtain being pulled back a fraction, and when he didn't object, she stepped through. "Your escort is here," she said.

He was on his feet, but with his back against the bed and both hands braced to hold himself up.

"Sir—?"

"Just, give me a minute," he replied through his ragged breathing.

She left and returned a moment later with a cane. She held it out to him without comment and he accepted it with a quiet thank you. He shifted his weight onto the cane and after he was sure that he had enough strength to stay upright without falling over, he moved out from behind the curtain. His legs were stiff and he was sweating with the effort of keeping himself focused on maintaining slow, controlled movements, but it was getting easier.

Bill noted the time before he left, a little after twenty fifteen hundred hours. Normally, Saul would be just off his watch in CIC and so the commander headed for the XO's quarters. _But what's normal on a ship after her CO 's nearly killed?_ He had to stop more than once to catch his breath and was grateful that the corridors were relatively empty of personnel. For their part his escort kept silent. The Marine on his right he recognized as Sergeant Griggs. Griggs kept his gaze steadfastly ahead, but the other one, a Marine Bill didn't know, kept glancing at him every so often with thinly disguised concern.

"What's your name, Corporal?" he asked when he paused again to rest.

"Dasilva, sir."

_Dasilva works with Griggs. _Bill offered a nod of satisfaction and started moving again. He took a turn down the final section of corridor that led to Saul's quarters and though he couldn't make out the specifics of what was being said he could hear Ellen Tigh's voice echo in the hall. _If she's been harping at Saul this whole time... _Gods knew what kind of damage her influence had done.

He heard her accusing declaration, "All because when push came to shove, _you got shoved_."

"It was his son..."

"Saul," Bill interjected from the open hatchway. "What's happening on my ship?" Adama glanced back over his shoulder and told the Marines to wait in the corridor. Saul had already moved from his seat to help Bill inside. "Ellen, can I speak to my XO?"

"Of course." She drifted out of the room, her expression a mix of shock and he noted, no small measure of disappointment.

"Slow," he cautioned as Saul eased him down onto a chair. He couldn't stop a groan from escaping as he shifted his weight. "What's happened?"

Saul pulled up a chair and sat across from him. "I frakked things up and good."

"How?"

"I made some bad calls."

"I've done that." _Too many times to count._ Besides, Saul made bad calls even when he wasn't drinking and arguing with his wife, that was nothing new.

"Not like these."

Bill glanced at the table to his left and the bottle sitting on it. Frak, he was thirsty. "You gonna pour us one of those or what?"

"Yeah."

"Never had much use, for people who second-guessed my decisions," said Bill. _I won't second guess yours. _"Especially if they've never held a command. They don't understand the pressure." _You've probably borne a lot in the last few days and you never were very good at handling stress._ "You make a call, it effects the lives of thousands and you have no one to turn to for backup." _I wasn't here, but I am now._

"Eh, you make it look easy." Saul handed him a glass with a few sips worth of what smelled like whiskey. He drank it and immediately regretted it. The alcohol did nothing to ease his thirst and only reminded him of the aching line of stitched together skin that ran down his chest.

"Well, you know that's a lie now." _You know all the mistakes I've made. You were there trying to convince me not to make them. _

"A lot of pieces to pick up..."

"Then we'll pick 'em up together." _Whatever you did, I forgive you. I don't have choice. _"Where's my son?"

Saul looked down at the glass in his hand and set it back onto the table. "I don't know. He sprang Roslin from the brig about an hour ago. We lost 'em in the traffic around _Cloud Nine _and we're not gonna have a lot of help from the fleet after what I've done," he admitted. "Martial law and boarding parties didn't go over too well. Most of the ships are refusing resupply orders, hell any kind of orders..."

"You declared martial law?" _Frak. That's something it's too late to undo_. Bill sighed. "Then we wait, for as long as we can, let things cool off. But Saul, you make it clear to the fleet's captains that if they refuse to provide _Galactica_ with whatever aid we request then when the Cylons catch up, I will respond in kind."

"Yes, sir." Saul retrieved his abandoned drink and gulped it down. "There's one more thing..." He stared at the bottom of his empty glass. "Roslin's dying."

"What?"

"Cottle confirmed it." Tigh reached for the bottle to refill his drink rather than meet his friend's gaze. "Cancer."

"That's—" He paused. _That's not—No..._

His thoughts tumbled back into motion as the pieces slid together. The signs had been there all along... _"We'll just have to find Earth."_ She was running out of time. _"We better find it soon." _She had been from the start. _"Do you have a ship's doctor aboard Galactica?" _And Lee, Lee had known... _"You don't seem surprised."_ He'd kept her secret almost as well as she did. _"Something wrong?"_ Because she could lie without flinching. _"No, nothing at all."_ And he'd believed in her, in both of them.

"Frak."

"Bill, I—" Saul was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. "Frakkin' thing never quits..." The colonel went to answer it and though he kept his voice calm and his expression neutral Bill knew it wasn't good news. "Sonofabitch," he sighed as he returned the phone to its cradle.

"Another piece to pick up?"

"Something like that," he mumbled. "I better go see to it. I'll have a full report for you tomorrow." Bill recognized that as Saul's polite way of insisting that his commander let him handle things. He trusted Saul to do his job, if only because at this point he didn't think is could get much worse and he was too tired to argue. Adama pushed himself onto his feet and went back out into the corridors where his Marine escort was waiting.

By the time he made it to the infirmary his excursion had left him exhausted. He nearly collapsed into his bed and he didn't object when Cottle insisted on overnight observation.

"And I don't care if half the ship's on fire," continued the doctor, "you're staying here until I say otherwise, understand?"

It wouldn't have been so bad if he could sleep. When the lights were turned down for the night he tried. He lay still and closed his eyes, but in the dark he had no way to escape the memories that pushed their way to the surface. As soon as he drifted off, he was falling...

The sky spun, a long gray blur across his vision and the wind howled. In his ears was the urgent cry of an alarm that meant only one thing, _eject. Eject_.

He reached for the handle and—nothing. _No! _The wind deepened into a roar. _There is no victory without sacrifice._

_From the darkness you must fall..._

_Eject eject eject! I have to—_

Bill jerked awake. The sudden movement lent a sharp edge to the painkiller and sedative induced fog that masked the ache of his body. He held himself motionless, lying on his back with one hand clenched around a tangle of sheets, the other hung over the side of the bed in open air. There was no ejection handle there for him to pull that would get him out of this. _Failed and weak._ He closed his eyes again in the hopes that he would calm down, but within moments the darkness dragged him under. _To darkness all..._

He emerged from the shadows into a narrow corridor where the lights flickered across the walls. He had a rifle in his hands and was wearing tactical gear over his flight suit. He was alone. Between one flicker and the next he stood in the middle of a junction, exposed from three different directions. He swept his rifle from one empty corridor to another. The lights blinked out. When they flashed back on he wasn't alone anymore.

He saw the barrel of the gun, but not the person holding it, and reacted, fired without thinking only—no ammo. He couldn't hear it, but he felt it. The shot, it hit him like a hammer. The lights flickered again. He was on his knees. There was no pain. _Must have missed... _But when he looked down his hand came away from the side of his bulletproof vest covered in blood.

He had to stand up, had to move, before—

A voice, far away...

"Get up. Come on, you have to get up." She sounded worried, desperate, familiar. But he couldn't see her. "On your feet solider. Let's go." Hands tried to pull him up and he tried to obey, but his lower body felt cold, it wouldn't move the way it was supposed to. He stumbled, the room spun and he couldn't keep his balance. He was falling—

Bill woke again and before the drugs Cottle had given him could carry him off into yet another nightmare, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He contemplated trying to leave sickbay. Maybe he'd get some decent rest if he was in his quarters where he could lock the hatch and have his back against a wall, but the thought of going out into darkened corridors alone kept him in bed. He couldn't let himself fall asleep again, so he made use of the habits that had he'd developed as a commander—habits that were the result of a warning he'd taken to heart— _"When you finally have a battlestar of your own, know the name of every man and woman who serves with you. Know who they really are. Because if you don't—"_ He pushed the memory away.

_Dasilva works with Griggs. Dasilva works with Griggs. _

He kept going, listing every name he could remember, from _Galactica, Valkyrie, Columbia, Atlantia, Cerberus_... He ran through the pre-flight, launch and post-flight checklists that he'd used thousands of times when flying. He recited the oaths he'd sworn as an officer and a commander and, piece by piece, he used it all to reconstruct the wall of stoicism that he'd built for himself long ago.

It was all he had left.

-xxx-

The sound of someone bumping into a piece of equipment just outside the curtains pulled Bill out of a half-dozing, half-aware state. A grumbled curse and a moment later, Saul shuffled into view, the colonel's expression was locked in the grimace he had every time he quit drinking. His XO apologized for waking him and handed him a logbook.

"That report I promised," he said.

Bill pushed himself up out of his slumped position and rubbed his face with his hands. "What time is it?"

"Oh five hundred. I uh—I'm late for my check in with CIC..."

The colonel wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Saul."

"I'll stop by again later this afternoon," he said and left before Bill could press him any further.

Adama retrieved his reading glasses from the stand next to his bed and opened the book on his lap. He flipped through the pages until he found the last date he could remember and skimmed through the text..._Raptor 1 found a planet in sector 728. _Galactica _is prepping a survey team... _

The next page was blank, except for a single sentence.

_Have taken command of fleet after Commander Adama shot and critically wounded by Lt. Valerii, Cylon. _

He looked at the words that had been hastily scrawled across the paper and at the last word..._Cylon_. A soldier who followed her orders, steady and fearless—

He flipped to the next page where the lettering was careful and precise, the sentences terse, but complete and he read. About the lost civilian fleet. No doctor on board. No information from the Cylon prisoner, hereafter referred to as "it" instead of "she". Computers networked together. Cylon boarding parties and damaged sustained. He read the list of how many injured and the names of the crew members killed. Many of them were names he hadn't seen often enough to match with faces, but that he committed to memory until they were a part of his litany. And then he read on...

_...I went to sickbay to check on Commander Adama's condition before the arrival of Doctor Cottle. Captain Lee Adama and former president Laura Roslin were both there. I don't know how she got out of the brig during the boarding action by the Cylons, but I have reason to believe that Capt. Adama was responsible. After seeing the commander, Ms. Roslin volunteered to return to her cell— _

Bill paused. In the aftermath of the Cylon boarding party it must have been chaos, Laura could have found a way off the ship before anyone realized she was missing. But she'd stayed. Until something changed her mind.

He skimmed down the page and kept reading.

_...The government was no longer functioning in the best interests of the fleet, so I declared martial law. This action went against the wishes of my commanding officer, but I feel it was necessary in order to protect the ship and its crew..._

_...At approx. 2030 hours the SAR mission returned from Kobol with the survivors of Raptor 1 comprising Chief Galen Tyrol, Spc. Cally Henderson, Spc. Diana Seelix and Dr. Gaius Baltar. Chief Tyrol was questioned in connection with the Cylon prisoner and held in the brig for forty-eight hours. He was released after further testing by Dr. Baltar indicated that he was human and was not involved in the assassination attempt. —Given Tyrol's relationship with the Cylon and Baltar's testing methods I have my doubts, but without the chief our Vipers won't fly..._

…Galactica's_ battle readiness was being undermined by ships refusing to release their supplies. I sent boarding parties to ensure their compliance. Not enough Marines were available for the number of boarding parties needed. Pilots were reassigned to provide oversight—_

Bill sighed. He didn't even have to consult Saul's log to know what happened next. A shot into a crowd that kills someone innocent. A mistake that sets the dominoes falling. It was how the civil war on Tauron started, and how the riots on Aerelon had ended. Now it was _Gideon_ and four dead civilians.

It was after that, that Laura escaped.

…_Capt. Adama abused the freedom of his parole, disabled the brig guards, released Roslin from her cell and commandeered a Raptor using CMO Cottle's flight clearance. The CAP was ordered to intercept and fired a warning shot, but the Capt. knew I was bluffing. He was my commander's son. Maybe it was a mistake to let him go, maybe now the fleet tears itself apart and the Cylons wipe us all out, but I couldn't—_

The entry ended abruptly at the bottom of the page and was left unfinished. The next page had only two more sentences.

_...During transfer of the Cylon prisoner to a more secure cell Spc. Cally Henderson intercepted the transfer escort, discharged her firearm, and killed the Cylon. Spc. Henderson has been confined to quarters pending review by Commander Adama when he resumes his duties._

Bill closed the logbook. Three days and one disaster had piled on another and another until he was almost grateful that he'd missed it. He couldn't say that he would have done anything different if he had been in Saul's place. Or in Lee's, or even Laura's for that matter. But the shadow in the back of his mind whispered... _You believed in them. And how did they repay you? _

With broken oaths and lies and two bullets to the chest.

He pushed the whisper away.

When Ishay brought him his breakfast he smiled and made small talk because it would get him out of sickbay faster. When Saul came to check on him that afternoon he kept their conversation short, yet encouraging because no matter how badly Saul had frakked up, Bill needed his XO to have enough self-assurance to keep the crew and the ship ready for the next crisis. But when he returned to his quarters that night, locked the hatch and settled into his rack, the shadow came back and it whispered: _You believed in them and look what happened. Look at the mess that they've made... _The whisper followed him. It swirled in a lazy little circle at the edge of his thoughts while his body healed. It trailed along behind him when he returned to the CIC to cheers and applause and told his crew that they meant something to him, that it was time to get back to work.

It needled at him while Gaeta reviewed the current sitrep and the unknown whereabouts of Laura and his son.

_They broke their word to you and ran away. Hunt them down. _

"I want them found," he ordered. "She was dangerous enough as a symbol of resistance, but now with Lee helping..." _He chose his side. These are the consequences._ "I want to search every ship in the fleet. Quarantine procedures. Isolate the ship out of the main body. If its clean we keep it quarantined away from the rest of the fleet. She can hide, but she can't run."

Saul moved to obey his commander. "Dee, start quarantine procedures. Start with Cloud Nine." He turned back to Bill. "What're you gonna do about Cally and the Chief?"

"Transfer her to the brig. Have Chief Tyrol report to my quarters."

-xxx-

_He seems...hollow. _That was Bill's first thought when he looked up from his desk and saw the chief standing at attention a few feet away. It was just enough to dull the sharp edge of anger that was the shadow, still hiding, still whispering, behind the wall of stoicism he had so carefully rebuilt.

"At ease."

Tyrol relaxed his stance, but his expression remained withdrawn, his gaze fixed on some spot on the wall behind Bill's shoulder. _Just how broken are you?_

"I've been going over the reports from the last few days," said Adama with a glance down at the open logbook before him. "Trying to get some context."

"Whatever I can do to help, sir." _A rote response if ever there was one. _

"Times like this make it hard to know who to trust. This ship runs on trust, Chief. This fleet, dies without it." He kept his voice level and his tone as empty of accusation as he could make it. "You've been investigated for collusion twice and my officers don't trust you, Chief. Why should I?"

Bill expected Tyrol to respond with indignation, with self-righteousness borne of either offended honor or concealed deceit, but there was none of that. It just wasn't in him anymore.

"Sir, I—" He finally met his commander's gaze. "I guess you shouldn't."

"Hm." _So, that's how broken. _

_And it makes you want to trust him, but you thought the same thing before Boomer turned on you. _

"You've made some mistakes and you're gonna earn back that trust," replied Bill. It was an order that he needed to make into a fact.

"Yes, sir." _And so it's a fact. _

"But you're not the only deckhand whose loyalty is in question. Cally shot— a prisoner. A prisoner who may have had valuable intelligence." _Who might have told me why._ "And she did it during a time of war. That makes her a traitor, Chief." _I need to know why. _

"If I may speak on behalf of Specialist Cally. She was distraught, sir. The experience on Kobol. Being on the surface, fighting the Cylons. It's shattering for all of us. I don't believe she was in her right mind when she shot Boomer."

He sighed. That wasn't the answer he cared about—_To a question you still haven't asked. _

_Time to stop dancing around it then. _

"Did you love her, Chief?" _Did you believe the same lies I did?_

"'Scuse me?"

"Boomer, did you love her?" _Is that why I see an empty man standing here? _

"I thought I did."

"When you think you love somebody, you love them. That's what love is, thoughts." _I thought she was loyal. A good solider. _"She was a _Cylon_. A machine. Is that what Boomer was? A machine?" _I thought you all were loyal. _"A thing."

"That's what she turned out to be." _Is that what you are?_

"She was more than that to us." Bill pushed himself up and stepped away from his desk. "She was more than that to me." He moved closer to Tyrol so he could see if there was another lie standing here in front of him. "She was a vital, living person…" _Like you. _"Aboard my ship for almost two years. She couldn't have been just a machine. Could you love a machine?" _If you can't tell the difference. Does it matter? _

"No, sir. I guess I couldn't have."

_Just a hollow man. He can't tell you what you need to know. _

Bill shook his head, trying to quiet the whisper and clear his mind. _I just need to rest._ _To think._

"Cally discharged a firearm without permission, endangering the lives of her shipmates. Thirty days in the brig." _Because she's not a traitor, she just did what I couldn't. _He sat down on the edge of his rack. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

"You'll see her again, Chief," he warned. He lay back and pulled off his glasses to put a little more distance between himself and the sharp edges around him.

"Excuse me?"

"There are many copies. You'll see her again." He took a breath. Tried to relax. "Be ready for it."

"Yes, sir."

After the chief left, Bill closed his eyes and tried to get a little sleep, but the ache in his chest that had been his constant companion since the shooting kept him awake.

The buzz of his phone eventually dragged him upright.

It was Colonel Tigh.

"Roslin's broadcasting."

-xxx-

By the time Commander Adama reached CIC the broadcast was over.

"We tried to jam the transmission," reported Lieutenant Gaeta, "but the _Astral Queen_ bypassed it somehow, sent the signal bouncing through half a dozen other ships before we managed to trace it back."

_She's working with _Zarek _now? _

_The enemy of my enemy—_

_Is still my enemy. _

"What did she say?"

Colonel Tigh motioned for Bill to join him by the command table and handed him a clipboard with the transcript. He skimmed through the first couple of lines until he reached the end of the justifications and the beginning of her call to action. _The scriptures tell us that all this happened before and all of it will happen again. That we all have a role to play in the cycle of time... _

"Is she kidding with this?" _See how far she's strayed? And she's taken Lee and Kara with her. _

"I know it's hard to believe, but that message has cropped up all over the fleet."

"It's religious crap," he snapped. He read aloud in disbelief, "'It seems I have been chosen to help lead you to the promise land of Earth. I will not question this choice I'll simply try to play my part in the plan. Therefore, at the appointed hour, I will give the signal to the fleet. All those wishing to honor the gods and walk the paths of destiny will follow me back to Kobol. It is there we will meet the Gods' servant with the Arrow of Apollo.'"

Bill slammed the clipboard down and it skidded off the table. _What the hell is she thinking? _

Saul ignored Bill's momentary outburst. "We've got five raptors with Marine fire teams standing by to board the _Astral Queen_," he offered.

_So we can set another domino falling? One that might turn her into a martyr. No. _"No one's gonna follow her. No one's gonna believe this crap. No one's this stupid. And anyone that is, that wants to make a suicide run back to Kobol. Please, let them." _Then we'll see who's loyal._

"You sure about this, Bill?"

"Not long after the attacks there was a ship that thought they could do better on their own. I was willing to let 'em try. She's the one who wanted to keep everyone together. Now she wants to divide this fleet—" He shook his head. "I'm not gonna protect anyone who doesn't want it."

_That's just as good a justification as any right? But why not the truth? If they follow her, they don't deserve your protection. She betrayed you, they all did, anyone who follows her is a traitor. And death is the sentence for traitors. _

It wasn't long before Gaeta reported the detection of a signal flare and a moment later, "_Astral Queen_ has jumped away."

"Now we see how many follow." _How many will sacrifice themselves? _

"To sit around and wait for Starbuck to show up with that stupid arrow?" scoffed Tigh. "Two. Three at the most."

Bill looked up at the Dradis console overhead and waited. _How much more can you lose? _At first there was no change. Then it was one green dot blinking out, then two, three, more and more. Then it was over.

Gaeta had kept count. "Twenty four ships, sir."

"That's almost a third of the fleet," said Tigh.

Bill's gaze dropped to the table. _That's it then. _He pulled off his glasses and said—nothing. He just turned around and left.

He walked through the corridors with no particular destination in mind, but his feet carried him where he had to go, to _Galactica's _morgue. To what was left of the pilot he'd met on the day that he'd buried his son.

He pulled out the slab that held her body and folded the sheet back to see her face.

At first all he could see was the machine. The Cylon who'd stood in his CIC and who'd followed orders that weren't his own. Followed them without hesitation, steady and fearless. Unflinching and heartless. As easy as flipping a switch.

"Why?" he asked. But there was no answer. It was too late for that.

And the longer he looked, the more he remembered the bright-eyed young rook who had greeted him with a salute and a smile. "..._Sharon Valerii...It's an honor to finally meet you, sir." _The pilot whose landings were rough._"Missed the trap seven times in two days. It's a new _Galactica_ record." _Whose story he thought he knew. _"Your family's gone, and I know that you have no home. All you've got is the service." _Who'd made a promise in exchange for a chance.

"_I'll pay you back someday, when it really means something."_

He reached out to touch her face and he finally felt it. The real damage that two bullets could cause. It was the knowledge that no matter what he did he would never be safe, could never be sure anymore, who was human, what was real. It was the knowledge that no matter what he did his family, his pilots, sooner or later he lost them, would keep losing them, and that the wall that he'd built couldn't protect him. Not anymore. The wall he had built started to crumble with a shortness of breath, with a crushing, strangled sob that dragged itself free and he could do nothing to stop it. He wasn't carved out of stone. Caught in the flood, he had to give way.

Until it was over.


	34. Follow the Path

_62 Days After Cylon Attack  
Location: Kobol – Extreme Range_

"Jump complete," announced Zarek's pilot as the _Astral Queen _shifted back into normal space.

Laura steadied herself with a hand on Lee's arm while she fought off a wave of nausea that tried to climb its way up the back of her throat. Every jump had a way of making her feel sick these days, but she told herself it was probably just another side effect of the Chamalla and did her best to hide it.

"You okay?" Lee asked just above a whisper so that Zarek wouldn't overhear them.

She nodded, let go of him and straightened her posture. "How many ships have followed us?"

The Dradis screen in front of her showed several green dots that continued to multiply, but she was too far away to count them clearly.

"About a dozen so far," replied Zarek. After another minute or so the green dots stopped appearing. He turned and smiled. "It seems you have a lot of support, Madam President. Twenty-four ships, almost a third of the fleet."

"So many..." What if this was a mistake? A third of humanity was a lot to risk if she was wrong. Worse yet, what if she was right? _Then I may not have saved enough of them. _

"They believe in their president," affirmed Lee.

She mustered a wan smile and pushed her doubts aside. There had been no room for doubt when she started on this path, there could be none now that it was too late to turn back.

"Any sign of pursuit?" she asked.

The pilot shook his head. "No _Galactica _and nothing that looks like a Raptor...as far as I can tell."

Zarek rested a hand on his pilot's shoulder. "With this many ships on our side Commander Adama will be coming. He won't have a choice and we'll need to be ready."

"I wouldn't be so sure. If my father wanted us there'd already be Colonial Marines cutting through the hatches. He let us get this far without pursuit because we're not worth chasing. We've made our choice and now we're gonna have to live with it."

Laura was reminded of the moment on _Colonial One _when Lee had defended giving Zarek control of the _Astral Queen _and of Bill's reaction when his son defied them both. _"I guess you finally picked your side." _And that had been the end of the discussion as far as Bill Adama had been concerned. _It seems like that was so long ago, but nothing's changed. Lee's right. We picked a side. It wasn't his and now he's done with us. _There was a certain disappointment that she felt at the realization. _But we have to keep going. _

"Whatever the case may be, we should start hailing those ships," she said, careful to frame her thoughts as an inclusive suggestion instead of an order. _I may be the president, but this is Zarek's ship and while I'm here, I'm vulnerable. _"We'll need a list of the captains, their people, resources. We need to know our options. We don't want anyone out there to get confused or left behind if we have to jump."

"Of course, Madam President. My people will see to it."

"Thank you."

"Sir, we're receiving priority transmissions from the _Chrion _and _Gemini_," said one of the crewmen monitoring the wireless."They're requesting permission to dock and transfer Quorum members aboard to meet with the president."

Zarek did her the courtesy of waiting for her nod of approval before he issued his orders. "Docking permission granted. Have them escorted to the officer's mess." He gestured for Laura to proceed him out of the rear of the compartment. "We'll meet them there shortly."

One more deep breath to steady herself and she moved toward the hatch. Elosha, who had been a quiet, but constant presence since Laura's escape, followed close by her side. Lee made sure to put himself between her back and Zarek, ever her protector since they'd left Billy behind. She couldn't help thinking that maybe Billy was out there in one of those ships that had jumped. Or maybe Commander Adama had locked him up in _Galactica's _brig. But then she reminded herself, _I can't entertain maybes right now, I have to keep moving forward. _She walked down passageways that, while not yet familiar, she found easier to navigate than _Galactica's_. She supposed it wouldn't have done well for the crew on a prison ship to get lost.

The officer's mess, as Zarek had named it, was a windowless box compartment with a set of tables and a scattered array of metal chairs. It had once belonged to the ship's guards and while there were no real officers aboard the _Astral Queen_ save for Captain Apollo, Zarek had more than a few of his own lieutenants. Men like Meier, who styled himself after his leader with a matching black leather jacket, carried a gun and parroted orders to half a dozen others that had arranged themselves around the edges of the room. The men were supposedly for protection, but who exactly they were protecting and from what, was left unclear.

"Anything I can get you while we wait?" asked Zarek as he pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for her to sit. She remained standing. _Just because he's polite doesn't mean he can be trusted. _

"Water would be nice."

One of the men peeled away from the wall nearest the hatch and went to fulfill her request.

"Madam President," said Lee, "after this meeting we should find you some quarters."

"The guard barracks aren't much," suggested Zarek, "but they're the best rooms you'll find here."

Lee bristled at the idea. "Maybe one of the other ships would—"

"No, we can't afford to waste fuel shuttling me around." She turned to Zarek. "As long as we won't be displacing you or your men, I'm sure the guard barracks will be fine."

"We left them empty."

"So you're still—"

"Staying in my cell, yeah. You spend most of your life behind bars...it has a certain comfort."

It also bolstered his reputation as a man of the people. What better way to convince your followers of the sincerity of your politics than by showing them? If nothing else came of this venture she was at least getting to know Zarek very well. They were on the same side for the moment..._But it's only so long as he cares to maintain the appearance of legitimacy. Someday he won't and then he'll finish what he started on _Cloud Nine_. If I survive that long..._

Zarek made a halfhearted attempt at further small talk, but it died quickly under Lee's glowering demeanor. They simply waited. Elosha studied her copy of the scriptures. Lee leaned against one of the tables across from Zarek and was clearly fighting down the impulse to pace. Laura had a glass of water from the pitcher that Zarek's crewman had delivered and resisted the urge to sit lest she give any indication of the fatigue that was eating away at her as the minutes dragged on in a contest of patience.

Eventually, Zarek broke the silence.

"Meir, go find out what's taking so long."

When Meir returned he wasn't alone.

"Our esteemed Quorum representatives saw fit to bring to a few guests," he said before Zarek dismissed him to keep an eye on the bridge.

About a dozen people filed into the room, a few Laura recognized as ship's captains, the rest were part of the regular entourage of aides and supporters for representatives Bagot and Porter. She had expected Sarah Porter and the Gemonese, but Bagot had come as a surprise. Virgon and its people had been much like Caprica, a colony of great wealth and low religiosity and no one had represented that so well in Quorum meetings as Marshall Bagot. _He's here to support Zarek. _And she was reminded that for every captain or colonist who had joined this new fleet because of their faith there were just as many who were here because they didn't like Commander Adama, or they thought Zarek was a hero. Very few would be like Lee, who she was sure followed her for no other reason than that she was his president. _If only it were so simple..._

"Welcome aboard," said Zarek with a smile. He offered a handshake to his fellow Quorum representatives as they passed by.

Laura said nothing. She was getting too tired to stand so she braced herself with a foot on one of the chairs near the center of the room and watched as everyone came in and found their own place at a table or around the edges of the group. Over the years she'd found that anytime people gather somewhere, whether it was a meeting or a party, there were always a few unguarded seconds of chaos where people revealed their intentions if you knew what to look for. Representative Porter for instance met Zarek with a severe expression and a bare amount of courtesy that transformed into a warm smile when she saw Elosha seated across the room. Captain Meeker of the _Gideon _was a somber presence who kept to the fringes and eventually settled into a spot shoulder to shoulder with Bagot. _Not that I'd blame him after what happened._ Most of the others were caught somewhere between anxiety or excitement that ebbed and flowed in a constant current around her, but she stayed quiet and calm and waited for the din to fade.

One more deep breath. _While I still can._

"What can I do for you?" she asked them. Her question unleashed a torrent of responses that was quelled only when Lee stepped in.

"Hey! One at a time!"

Unsurprisingly, Bagot was the first find his voice. "Why exactly is _he_ here, snapping orders?"

"Captain Apollo is here for the same reason that I'm sure you are Mister Bagot; he believes in our democracy."

"Except 'our democracy' has just defied the commander of a ship with very big guns and who so happens to be the good captain's father. He's already switched sides once hasn't he? I don't think he should be privy to this meeting when we can't be sure of his support—"

"I support the president _completely_." Lee's voice raised in indignation. "And my only priorities are the preservation of her safety and the completion of this mission."

"That's all well and good," interjected Porter, wagging her finger at Lee as he paced in a tight circle, "but he's still Adama's son. When push comes to shove, how do we know he'll be willing to stand—"

"If it were not for him, I would still be in a _Galactica _jail cell. I trust him, completely, and this subject is _closed._" _I will not let you question the integrity of the one man on the ship who doesn't have an ulterior motive. _

"And what about _Galactica?" _asked Bagot amid the anxious murmurs the were building in pockets around the room. "They—they know where we are! They could jump in here at any time and charge us all with treason or destroy this ship with a—with a flick of wrist."

"We're not entirely defenseless!" interjected Zarek. "Some of our ships are armed. We should take steps to arm the others just in case."

"Just in case? Just in case we wanna commit suicide!" The murmurs quieted again in the face of Lee's pronouncement. "If _Galactica _wants to take us down, there is nothing we can do about it, _nothing_. And nobody in this room should be under any illusions on that count."

"At this point," said Laura, "it's my firm belief that Commander Adama has let us go. Lieutenant Thrace will return. She will have the Arrow of Apollo, and it will help us find our way to Earth."

"And exactly how long should we wait for her?" pressed Bagot, stirring more side debates. "I mean, maybe we should go down to the surface now. Go down now and start looking for this tomb."

"I wouldn't be too eager. There may still be Cylons present."

Elosha finally stood. "And some of us will die down there," she said. They went silent. Several people bowed their heads as she looked around the room. "The scriptures tell us that any return to Kobol carries with it a cost... in blood."

_One I hope that we've already paid. _

Her gaze swept across the room in a quick assessment. _They're afraid, but I don't have time for that anymore. _

"People, I realize that there are still many unanswered questions here, but I refuse to lose sight of what this has always been about: our mission, to save humanity. Yes, it is a big one. But, it is our foretold destiny and I, for one, am not going to waver from it now." Laura caught sight of Meir whispering to Zarek and Zarek rising from his seat to follow his second out of the room._ Time to wrap it up. _"If there is anyone here who does not have the stomach for this mission you are welcome to rejoin Commander Adama's fleet." _If he'll take you. _

"We believe in the words of the Gods," said Porter, "and in their prophet Laura Roslin."

"So say we all," replied Elosha.

Laura couldn't suppress an expression of disapproval as the rest of the room echoed, "So say we all." _That I'm the president should be reason enough, but no, they have to make me into a prophet._

Porter stood and asked if they could end the meeting with a prayer, but Laura sidestepped her discomfort with that aspect of the role she'd chosen by explaining there wasn't time.

"We need to start organizing now. Captain Meeker and Captain Trudeau, I would appreciate your help in coordinating with the other captains to distribute supplies and relay standby coordinates to the other ships in case we have to jump." They both nodded their assent. "Representatives, if you have any further concerns, we can address them tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me." She wasn't about to leave Zarek to his own devices and judging by the grim expression on Lee's face he was in agreement as he followed her back to the bridge of the _Astral Queen_.

"...Tom, that thing is moving fast. If we're gonna shoot it down, we'd better shoot it down."

"Shoot what down?" asked Laura.

Lee pressed in between where Zarek and Meir stood in front of a Dradis console.

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"Madam President, we have a security situation," replied Meir, "that's all."

"She wasn't talking to you," mumbled Lee as he examined the readout.

"There's an unidentified ship making its was toward us." Zarek clarified, "It's too big to be the lieutenant's Cylon Raider."

"It's in weapons range. The _Adriatic_ has to fire her missiles _now._"

Zarek deferred. "We need a decision, Madam President."

The wireless crackled to life before she made up her mind.

"_Civilian vessels, civilian vessels, this is Starbuck. Do you Read? Do you read? Say again, this is Starbuck." _

Laura smiled. _Exceptional timing, as always. _

"_Is anybody getting this. Hello? Hello?"_

Lee suppressed a laugh of relief. "Guess she just brought back a bigger souvenir this time."

"Coordinate the docking procedures," ordered Zarek to one of his crewmen. "Meir, round up an escort. Let's get down to the hangar and greet our latest guest."

-xxx-

They made it down to the lower decks just as Starbuck strode into the transfer bay. Lee greeted Kara with a hug and a quick kiss that confirmed what Laura had suspected for a while now. Their closeness was more than that they had almost been family. _He's in love with her. _ _And maybe if this mission succeeds he'll have a chance to pursue it. _

Their moment over, Laura stepped forward and shook Kara's hand. "Lieutenant..."

Kara's smile was gone now and her expression anxious.

"Lee there's something I need to tell you—" Kara looked back the way she'd come.

They caught sight of it in the doorway at the same time. A Cylon. Another Sharon. Laura went cold, Lee reacted.

"Lee wait!" yelled Kara.

Three quick strides and he'd closed the gap. He caught the Cylon by the front of her flight suit, swung her around against a nearby pillar and pressed the barrel of his sidearm into her face.

"Don't you _frakking move_!"

Kara gripped his arm, trying to pull him off.

"Stop! She's with us!"

Another man had come into the room behind them. He rushed forward with a gun drawn and held it, point blank, against the back of Lee's head.

"Drop your weapon, sir." Lee didn't move. "Drop your weapon..."

"Helo!"

Everyone else in the room who had a weapon had it pointing toward the stand off in the middle of the room except for Kara. She had a hand on each man, holding them as if it would stop them. Laura looked from Lee to the stranger.

_Be quick and calm and firm._

"Gentlemen," she said."I'm only going to say this once, Captain Adama, and—what is your name?"

"Lieutenant Agathon."

"Used to be Sharon's ECO," said Lee. "Thought you were dead, Helo. You a Cylon too?"

"Don't even."

"All right, here's what we're gonna do, you're gonna lower your weapons, am I being perfectly clear?"

_Breathe._

Agathon didn't budge. "What about Sharon?"

_Promise anything to keep them all breathing..._

"She will be taken to a holding cell where she will remain unharmed."

"Okay... How 'bout it, Apollo? Should we do what the nice lady says?"

"She's the President of the Colonies you moron and yes, we're gonna do exactly what she says."

"Lower your weapons, _now._"

One more breath, then another and Agathon retreated a step. Kara released her hold when both men had lowered their sidearms and holstered them.

"Thank you," said Laura. "Now put that thing out the airlock."

"What?"

Two of Zarek's men moved to take hold of the Cylon.

"We don't keep Cylons around here, Lieutenant."

"What the _frak_!" Another pair moved to hold Lieutenant Agathon. "You said you weren't gonna hurt her!"

Shouting took the place of gunshots until the only one left yelling was the Cylon.

"I know how to find the tomb of Athena! Do you?" she cried, her feet braced against the steps that led to the cargo bay. "Kobol's a big planet! You don't find the tomb, you don't find Earth!"

"Listen to her," pleaded Agathon, "for Gods' sakes!"

"Listen to me!"

"Madam President." Kara's voice drew her attention. The lieutenant presented her with the Arrow of Apollo. _…And the Harbinger will carry the Arrow that points the way to the promised land... _It did not glow with prophetic purpose like a beacon of salvation, or magically reveal Earth's location. It was just an arrow, the gold and embedded jewels in tip and tail dull with age. _But it has a purpose..._

"Tell them to wait a minute," said Laura and Meir moved to obey.

She took the arrow in her hands, felt the weight of it. _Maybe the Cylon has a purpose too. _She thanked Kara and offered the Arrow back. "Mister Zarek, is there some place where that—young woman, and I can speak?"

"I can arrange that."

-xxx-

Laura insisted on speaking to the new prisoner alone and so she waited while Sharon's flight suit was exchanged for a red prison jumper and the Cylon's arms were bound together in restraints up to the elbows. Lee ushered everyone away once it was sealed safely behind bars. Although his expression spoke plainly of how much he thought this was a bad idea, he left without protest.

It was uncanny, the way this Sharon looked just like the other one, same body, same face, but it was different. Somehow, Laura could tell that this was not the pilot who'd left Lieutenant Agathon behind to save civilians and who'd covered fear with dedication to duty. That Sharon had gathered scattered ships into the fleet that escaped and without her they all would have died of thirst. And she wondered, what kind of enemy would do that?_ The kind that wants us all in one place so we're easier to destroy, who helps in order to gain our trust only to hurt us worse later. _But Leoben, Doral, the others suspected of being Cylons, they all strove for the same thing, to hurt them now, to divide them, to turn humanity against themselves. That's when the realization struck_..._

"The other Sharon, did she know what she was?"

"Probably not."

She followed the path that logic laid out before her. "So you can be programmed to think that you're one of us, until what? Another Cylon somewhere else flips a switch, gives you new orders?" _Then you turn on the people you saved, the people you loved, like they meant nothing. _

"I know what I am." That much Laura believed. What stood before her was not some innocent, scared kid who had fooled even herself. This was a woman, a warrior, strength and danger were hidden in the depths of the dark eyes that stared back at her from behind bars that seemed fragile now. Same body, same face, but one look into those eyes and therein lay the difference between this Cylon and the last. It was the thinnest of lines that separated them, but it was as sharp as a razor's edge.

"Why are you here?"

"Because of Helo. Because I love him. And because I'm carrying his child."

"Oh, I see. That explains it. You're not here because you mean us any harm, or because you're a programmed enemy of humanity. You're here because you had an affair with one of our Raptor pilots." _Because someone programmed you to think you can love. Until one day you don't. _

"Listen to me—"

"I'm listening to you. That's my mistake. I'm listening to a Cylon." _And regardless of what you say, I will never know if you're lying. _You_ won't even know._

"I am here because I _chose_ to come here. And I know you don't believe me, but hear this; even if you find the tomb, even if you find the map, and even if you find Earth, the price you pay will be too high."

"I'm not interested in your prophecies. I know that there is a Cylon force on Kobol. I know it's dangerous and I have little doubt that you are communicating everything I say even as we speak." _Because what choice do you have? You're a machine. You can't choose. They sent you, ordered you here. _

The Cylon rose from her bunk in agitation. "It doesn't work like that! I'm not wired in!"

"Sharon, it's simple. What I need to know, and what might keep you alive is exactly how to find the tomb of Athena." _It's the only thing worth the risk._

"Get me a map, and I will do my best to tell you how to get to the tomb."

"No, you'll do better than your best. I want to know where it is and you either know or you don't."

Sharon moved closer to the bars, conviction in tone and being. "We all know about the tomb. I can show you the path. I don't know how long the path is, or exactly where it leads to, but I can tell you that you're going to have to move very, very quickly."

"If you're lying—"

"You'll airlock me, I know."

"Not just you."

There was silence as the Cylon worked out the implications behind Roslin's words and Laura had to admit she was surprised when Sharon didn't try to negotiate or beg.

"It starts with the Opera House," she said.

Laura listened and prepared to follow the path.

_Wherever it leads. _

_Whatever the cost. _

_I'm committed. _


End file.
